


Savior of the Damned

by littleblue_eyedbird



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: But things get complicated, Comfort/Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Graphic Descriptions of Injuries, Hurt/Comfort, Lavellan nurses Solas back to health, Non-Inquisitor Lavellan, Romance, Slow Burn, and inevitably falls in love with him, there will be smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-09
Updated: 2018-05-09
Packaged: 2018-08-20 12:10:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 43,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8248264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleblue_eyedbird/pseuds/littleblue_eyedbird
Summary: Superstition and Fear whispered for her to run.Resentment and Anger commanded her stay, watch him suffer and die.Reason told her to send word to the Inquisition and turn him over to their jurisdiction.Mercy pleaded with her to put him out of his misery and end his life on the spot.But Intuition asked her to save him, and it was Intuition that won her over in the end.





	1. Chapter 1

Anise took a steadying breath as she raised her bow, arrow knocked and ready.

The soft sounds of the lush forest enveloped her senses; the gentle rustling of the wind through the trees brought her peace, the subtle chatter of the birds calmed her nerves, and the quiet snapping of the twigs beneath her prey’s hooves sharped her focus as she aimed her arrow at the ram’s heart.

As she exhaled and loosened her arrow a thunderous crash echoed in the distance, disrupting her balance and sent her arrow off its mark. The ram, startled by the jarring noise, bolted from the clearing and into the brush out of sight.

“ _Fenedhis_ ,” she spat under her breath, shaking off the adrenaline that had been coursing through her limbs as she relaxed out of her stance, lowering her bow. She had been tracking the large creature for a majority of the morning and her efforts now had been wasted. She would have to wait until the creature stopped running before giving chase.

The jarring crash sounded again, but this time it was followed by a static crack, as if a bolt of lightning had struck a tree, sending the birds fluttering and squawking from the treetops. Her ears perked up at the sound, realizing the noise was coming from the direction of she had set up camp. Something had set off her wards.

And then she was moving, thoughts of her lost quarry far behind, as she had more valuable items stashed away at camp, collected from her earlier excursions she did not want stolen, or destroyed.  She wove through the trees like a wraith, aware of every dip in the earth and bump of tree roots growing over her path, letting the energy of the forest guide her towards her camp.

Knocking her arrow and raising her bow once more, she entered the small glen where she had set her belongings and aimed her sight on the intruder trapped in her magical bindings.

She gasped when she closed in and saw _who_ was caught in her ward. Her steps faltered to stop a few feet away as she took in the man before her, eyes widening in shock.

_Fen’Harel._

Her heart jumped into her throat and began to throb, mind racing like the birds in the sky. She had been warned the many forms of the Dread Wolf could take. The _Inquisitor_ had sent urgent word and description of the man to all Dalish clans, warning them of his presence—that he indeed existed and was not some shadow of nighttime story told to the da’len to scare them into behaving.

A warning that he was _real_.

And most importantly, that he was _dangerous_.

But the broken man laying at her feet seemed none of those things she had once believed Fen’Harel to be. There was blood, so much blood. It was everywhere, staining and seeping into everything. He lay in a distorted heap confined by the tendrils of her magic, the wisps of her spell constricted around his limbs as he struggled to free himself. Six arrows had pierced down his side in a line, in between the plates of his golden armor, ending at the top of his thigh. A river of red poured from each wound, soaking into the fur pelt draped across half his battered torso.

Dropping her defensive stance and replacing her arrow, she slung her bow over her shoulder and rushed to his side.  With a dismissive flick of her hand, she disarmed the constricting ward. Fen’Harel stopped struggling the moment her spell dissipated into thin strands of smoke and simply slumped over, defeated.

Crouching beside him, she tentatively reached out to lift his head. She hesitated within a few inches away from his chin, fingers curling back into her palm.

 _This was Fen’Harel_ , _the Dread Wolf, Bringer of Nightmares…_

… but also a damned man who was going to die unless she did something. She bit her lip.

Superstition and Fear whispered for her to run.

Resentment and Anger commanded her stay, watch him suffer and die.

Reason told her to send word to the Inquisition and turn him over to their jurisdiction.

Mercy pleaded with her to put him out of his misery and end his life on the spot.

But Intuition asked her to save him, and it was Intuition that won her over in the end.

Untying the red scarf she wore around her neck, Anise dabbed the blood off his face and out of his eyes, her fingers brushing across his forehead in the process. Unease churned in her gut at the contact as she discovered his skin was heated and balmy. She promptly pressed the back of her hand against his fever flushed cheeks. He wasn’t just warm, he was burning up. Gently, she tucked her fingers under his chin and tilted his head upwards. He slowly blinked, revealing glassy, unfocused blue eyes that appeared as if he was looking past her. He attempted to push away from her, but the sheer amount of effort it had required was more than he could muster. It ended up sending him keeling over onto the ground.

“Stop moving, you’ll only bleed out faster,” she chastised, catching him before his head hit the hard earth.

Laying him down as delicately as she could, she turned her attention first to his arrow wounds. From what she could tell, with his armor still on, was that the arrow heads were buried deep—and that they had met their mark some time ago. They were going to need to be cut out.

“I have to remove your armor,” she murmured, hands grasping his fur pelt and maneuvering him out of it. He made a noise of protest, trying to shrug her off but she persisted, “I need to get a better look at your wounds.”

Once the blood soaked pelt was discarded, she carefully removed his armor off piece by piece, trying her best to avoid bumping the shafts of the arrows. He winced a few times when she would get too close to one, causing her to apologize profusely, until he was stripped down to his underclothes. She ripped at the cloth of his undershirt to reveal the puncture sites and nearly let her face betray her revulsion. The flesh around the impact wounds were swollen, purple, and oozing.

“ _Poisoned_ ,” Anise hissed, checking the other impact sites. She expelled a small dose of healing magic to dispel some of his pain, and to probe how deep each arrow had embed itself. A small gasp escaped Anise’s lips as her magic was drawn to his right hip. She could feel the shattered bone beneath her delicate, magic enhanced touch. She focused on the emergency before her, separating herself from her own racing heart.

His leg she could tend to on the spot, she could set his bone and perform a healing ritual to begin to mend the fracture. It would be a long and arduous process to get him walking on his own again, that was a worry for another time. Unfortunately, she realized as she scanned his arrow wounds again, the extent of those infected injuries demanded full healing attention, and that something she could not provide at a simple hunting camp site; she was going to have to get him back to the Clan to treat those wounds.

That thought sent her head reeling.

_She was going to have to march the Dread Wolf right into the heart of her Clan._

 …but what other choice did she truly have? The more time she wasted deliberating, the more blood he lost. Time was running out.

“I can’t remove the arrows here,” she explained slowly, lifting his head again so she could hold his gaze, “You are seriously wounded and I don’t have enough of the right supplies with me to heal all of your injuries,” she paused, letting him absorb what she was saying, “But, I can set and heal your bone. Then I’ll be able to transport you to where I can properly remove the arrows and purify these wounds,” she continued softly, but she wasn’t even sure if he understood what she was saying, considering the dazed look he was giving her.

Casting a simple ice spell on his hip to numb the pain, she shifted the bone into its correct alignment before sinking her mana in deep. She closed her eyes and let the old magic of her spell guide her as she mapped out the fracture. It wasn’t a clean break, was a few hours old, and had worsened from the trauma of walking on it. Had he sought aid immediately after the break, it might have been a minor fix but…

_What was he running from? Or better yet… who?_

She cleared her mind of her buzzing questions and fixed her attention on mending him. She sent a forceful pulse of mana into his leg. She felt the bone begin to reconnect beneath her palms, growing and sealing itself. She had to be so careful not to move, or she would set it wrong and it would cause more damage. She let out the breath she had been holding and felt her mana reserves depleting each second she held onto the spell. She was draining herself to save this man who could very well end her world as she knew it. She hoped against hope this was worth the risk. She had to believe it was worth the risk.

“There, your bone is set. It’ll be a long while until you’re walking again normally on your own, but we can worry about that later,” she said to him comfortingly, lifting a hand off his thigh to squeeze his hand. He weakly returned the gesture.

At least it was some kind of response, a sign he understood. Attempting to carry on a one-sided conversation wasn’t bringing Anise much comfort but it was a welcomed distraction for her mind from that fact that this was the _Dread Wolf_ she was tending to. That it was the _Dread Wolf’s_ hand she was holding. Her stomach lurched.

Hooking one of his arms over her shoulder, she slowly lifted him up. Despite the slow pace, it still elicited a pained cry from the Wolf. He had trouble finding his balance once upright, slumping into her almost immediately. She swayed with the sudden added weight, and took a moment to adjust to his presence leaning into her. Even without the armor, he was quite heavy. She felt him tense and quake against her side as she took her first step, but did not protest further as she led him away. With a glance over her shoulder at her disordered camp and cringed. She was going to have to sneak away later at some point to cover up the evidence before a clanmate stumbled upon the carnage.

As they walked, Anise tried quiet her mind to the overwhelming tide of panic while he bled onto her hunting gear as she carried him out of the woods.

Her Keeper was going to kill her.

 _If_ her Keeper ever found out the truth.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elven: (or my best attempt at it):
> 
> Var'Haminan- our place of rest, infirmary
> 
> Da'adahlen-little forest, endearment for someone younger, or for someone easily lost

Clan Lavellan was relatively large by Dalish standards. Their numbers reaching near eighty clan members and only growing in size due to the success of the Inquisitor’s arrangements with Wycome officials. By the Inquisitor’s intervention, Clan Lavellan was given permission to take up residence with Wycome in the Marches, granted land on the rural southern side of the city—which proved to be the perfect location for the Dalish to flourish. As part of the deal, the forests along the southern border of the city—and their upkeep—were adopted into the Clan’s care. The people of Wycome had accepted the Dalish presence cordially, though some tensions still ran through some of the more affluent, prejudiced humans residing there.

And with that settled permanence, Anise noticed the shift as her people began to thrive. Clan Lavellan was able to become established traders within the City, their influence and goods beginning to spread well beyond into the other cities in the Marches. With the incoming and stable source wealth from their trading, her Keeper was able to expand their resources, which included creating a vastly more efficient and _permanent_ infirmary— _Var’haminan_. Being the First meant when she was not out hunting, she was responsible for running _Var’haminan_ with the Keeper. It was outfitted with numerous cots and equipped with a variety of rare supplies capable of treating even the most grievous of injuries. And the Keeper almost always had beds prepared, for they were in high demand now that Clan Lavellan was lending their warriors to the defenses of Wycome.

It had been strange for Anise to adjust, to finally have a place to settle and call home, even three years later after the settlement agreement. Perhaps that was why she constantly found herself being drawn into the forest, to wander the less traveled paths and find peace in the solitude it offered. The path she now walked was a familiar one, worn away from the steady traffic of aravels, caravans, and carriages. As she approached the encampment on that dirt path after emerging from the woods, the bustling and ambient sounds of the traders setting up their wares reached her ears. She hefted Fen’Harel up, readjusting his position on her shoulder to prevent him from sliding off as they shuffled past the stone statues of the Dread Wolf— _how ironic_ —that stood on either side of the grand archway that led into the settlement.

“Mythal’s mercy, Anise!” a shocked voice called to her, making her pause.

Tah’riel—one of the young merchants that acted as one of the many liaisons between Clan Lavellan and Wycome—was rushing over from his stand, a mop of golden curls bouncing as he hopped over a set of ale barrels at lightning speed. He took no time in carefully scooping up Fen’Harel’s other arm and slinging it over his shoulder, alleviating some of the weight of Anise’s back.

“I feel like you’re dragging in a corpse every time you come out of the woods. Well… I mean, that’s the goal when you go on hunts I guess, but granted they’re usually animal corpses… not people corpses…I mean, you know what I mean,” he stammered, his face blanching as the Wolf’s blood began to blossom over his tunic, “those woods are… odd.”

“Hah, I stumble on a lot of oddities _in_ the woods Tah’ri, but I wouldn’t consider the place _itself_ odd. Thanks,” Anise gestured with her head to Fen’Harel’s limp form now slumping on the merchant’s shoulder, “I’ve been carrying him for a few miles, I was beginning to think I’d lose feeling in my arm!” she lightheartedly joked, hoping it masked the nervousness bubbling up in her throat as she walked further into camp.

“A few… _miles_? Why didn’t you send a signal for help?” Tah’riel asked in disbelief, tearing his hazel eyes away from the Wolf and shooting her a disheveled look.

Her heart skipped a beat. _Shit_.

“I overestimated my strength, I thought I could do it alone,” she replied, swallowing thickly and picking up the pace that Tah’riel matched effortlessly. He gave her another look.

“That seems so unlike you...”

“Well, this morning I had a lapse in judgment.” _A major one._

“He…,” Tah’riel started cautiously, nodding again towards Fen’harel’s limp form hanging between them before tensing his expression, “…he didn’t, attack you or anything…did he?”

She couldn’t help the small hiccup of nervous laughter from bursting from her lips. “Oh no, it’s nothing like that Tah’ri, do you really think I’d be dragging his sorry arse this far if he did?”

“Ah, well…”

It was Anise’s turn to shoot Tah’riel a disbelieving look.

“Hey, don’t give me that, you are _so_ the type to stab someone and then offer to stitch their wound!”

“I am not—” Anise began to retort, but then quickly shut her mouth and exhaled sharply.

_She so was that type._

“ _Fenedhis_ , he’s bleeding all over me! If you didn’t do it, then what did happen to him?”

“I don’t have a clue, I found him in the forest like this.”

 “You found a butchered man… in the woods… and you still won’t admit that place is _weird_?”

“We’ve had this debate a hundred times Tah’ri,” Anise chided, letting some of her annoyance slide in her tone, “we can bicker about the personality of the forest later, because right now we need to get this man to _Haminan_.”

Her command worked, for Tah’riel remained silent the rest of the trek to the center of camp where _Var’haminan_ stood. Made of the finest ironbark and sealed with fire-resistant magic, it was quiet the sight to behold. Its layout design was modeled after a healing aravel, with several sectioned off areas dedicated to various types of healing needs, but obviously on a much grander scale with upgraded accommodations. The one-story fortress was divided into two wings, an emergency center on the left and long term care ward on the right. Hobbling into the entryway of the left wing with the Dread Wolf on her shoulder, it only took one look cast at Iseranni by Anise to send the Second bolting for the Keeper.

“Can you support him alone for a moment?” Anise asked Tah’riel.

When he gave a sharp nod, Anise shifted Fen’Harel’s weight fully over. Summoning cleansing magic she purified her hands as she ran over to the supply wall. Shaking the last remnant wips of her spell away, she began collecting all the materials she could carry and several vials of lyrium. She glanced behind her as she worked one of the lyrium vials open, studying Tah’riel’s blanching face as Fen’Harel bled out onto him. Tossing back the potion, she could feel its effects instantaneously. Fresh power stirred within her, sharpening her focus and restored her mana reserves. After depositing her supplies at the nearest, freshly prepared cot she beckoned Tah’riel over.

“Lay him down here, gently,” she ordered, spreading a fresh linen cloth she had grabbed over the cot as he approached.

Anise guided the Wolf’s head onto the pillow as Tah’riel cautiously put him on the bed. She pressed the back of her hand against theWolf’s head and cheeks, her stomach twisting at how even more heated his face had become.

“Is he… going to make it?” Tah’riel probed timidly.

“I don’t know,” Anise answered quietly, avoiding Tah’riel’s eyes, “but if I do not remove those arrows and treat his infection soon…”

Tah’riel and Anise jumped when the Keeper’s booming voice announced her presence.

 “It never stops with you does it? Always dragging in one more broken mess to fix,” Deshanna quipped as she appeared aside Anise, pulling up her thick, dark braids and tying them back with a cord. Iseranni rushed in a few steps behind.

“You know me, I can’t resist,” she retorted, rolling her eyes at Iseranni who had attempted to mask a snort behind a cough (and failed).

Anise pulled up her own russet hair into a high bun. Once her hair was out of her face, she turned her attention to the Wolf’s clothes. Grabbing a clean knife, she began to cut away at his tattered undershirt and carefully peeled away pieces of the blood soaked cloth. She cringed when she revealed the puncture sites; the infection was spreading. Tah’riel made a gagging noise somewhere from behind.

“We’re well aware,” Deshanna retorted slowly, eyeing the wounds and rolling up her sleeves, “Tah’riel if you’re going to be sick, please do so outside.”

Tah’riel didn’t need to be told twice before bolting out of the wing.

Anise’s eyes flicked over to the dark lines of her Keeper’s vallaslin spiraling up her forearms as she tossed more bloodied cloth on the floor. The fully body vallaslin was a right, and a sacrifice; a symbol of power and leadership. The ritual was given to every first aspiring to become Keeper. And it was something Anise definitely was dreading.

 “Am I to assume he is the reason for your late night escapades this past year?” Deshanna inquired suggestively, cocking a brow as she passed Anise a salve, stirring her out of her brooding.

 “No! No!!” Anise sputtered adamantly, purposely ducking her head to inspect the first arrow imbedded in Fen’Harel’s shoulder and hoping Deshanna couldn’t read her mortified expression.

This time Iseranni didn’t try to hide her laughter.

“Mhm, sure it’s not,” Deshanna gave her a pointed look as she began to spread a numbing salve over Fen’Harel’s inflamed skin, “I’m not daft and I’m still young. And I know when a woman sneaks out of camp returning in the wee hours of the morning, it can only mean one of two things,” she paused, pulsing a small current of mana over the infected flesh, “One—you’ve got a lover, or Two—you’re lying,” she chuckled.

Deshanna had never questioned her about her nightly activities before, so Anise had assumed she was in the clear. It was not a man she was fleeing into the night to meet up with, but a courier from the Red Jennies. She had sort of joined them, unofficially as a contact among the Dalish. She had to keep her involvement a secret, otherwise her position would be compromised—or put others in her clan at risk of the Jennies’ enemies.

Revealing Fen’Harel’s identity on the other hand also seemed like an equally—if not more—dangerous idea. Perhaps it would be safe to allow Deshanna, and the others to make whatever assumptions they wanted. The longer Anise delayed her answer, the more appealing the assumptions became. It only took a few heartbeats for her to decide it would be easier to let her clan believe this man was a lover, and not the man planning to destroy the world.

 “He’s was just passing through, I only just met him not too long ago…,” she finally responded, slowly realized she was going to have to remove Fen’Harel’s breeches next.

“What’s his name?” Deshanna asked.

“ _Darrian_ ,” the lie came rolling off her tongue with far too much ease than she was comfortable with. Her hands hesitating to cut the fabric of his waist band.

“It’s not like that, eh?” Iseranni teased, bumping lightly into Anise’s hip.

“Isera, hush. Let the girl strip the man in peace,” Deshanna chastised playfully, “We can interrogate her on her nightly activities after.”

Anise fought the urge to tell them both off, biting her tongue instead.

_Let them assume what they want._

She took a steadying breath as she tore down the length of his breeches, carefully cutting away the cloth so the arrows embedded in his thigh were unobscured. She quickly grabbed a clean towel and draped it over his lower half to preserve his modesty.

 _“_ Can we please get these arrows out of him now,” she pleaded, locking eyes with Deshanna as dread unfurled in her gut at the thought of how little time he had left.  

Letting the Dread Wolf die would be a death sentence for them all.

“Of course Anise, hand me the knife.”

* * *

 

Once the arrows had been cut out and his wounds had been flushed, the Keeper sent Iseranni off to test a sample of his blood and the stain on the shafts to figure out what substance the arrows had been coated in. Leaving Anise and Deshanna alone to tend to his injuries in the interim. Together, they provided a constant and steady stream of simple pain relieving magic to his wounds, letting the spell slowly sink into his infected skin. Before treating and sealing his wounds, they had to figure out which poison coursing through his veins. Using the wrong salve or potion could end up potentially doing more harm. They cast in silence, but Anise could sense the waves of curiosity rolling off Deshanna and knew the Keeper wouldn’t remain quiet for much longer.

“What happened to him Ani?” Deshanna’s voice was mild and soft when she spoke up, prodding at Anise’s wavering defenses.

It had been a thought dwelling on Anise’s mind the entire time she spent bent over healing his body. What had the Wolf been doing alone? How did he get caught off guard so badly? Where were his sentinels? _Who_ was he running from?

“I honestly don’t know. He was incoherent when I found him lying there in the woods so I couldn’t even ask him…,” Anise explained, letting her sentence trail off as she studied Fen’Harel’s face, running gentle fingers over his brow.

Perhaps there were greater things to fear than the Dread Wolf lurking in the woods.

Perhaps Tah’riel was right.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were seeing someone?”

_Ah, the interrogation begins._

“I didn’t want to make a big deal of it, it’s not going to last, it’s nothing… really,” Anise heard herself say dejectedly. It resonated distantly in her mind as she tried to separate herself from the lie she was weaving. She might have been laying on the desperation a bit thick for Deshanna’s inquisitive, provocative expression faded into a concerned one.

“ _Da’adahlen_.”

Anise watched out of the corner of her eye as Deshanna broke the spell to step up beside her and place a hand on her back, making the tension she had been carrying there melt away. It was a comforting gesture, and one she knew well.

Anise let out a shaky, guilt laden breath when Deshanna began to rub small circles between her shoulder blades. She _hated_ deceiving Deshanna, but she didn’t have a choice. Deshanna would kill him on the spot, or so she feared. Worse, Deshanna could send for the Inquisition and that was one chaotic mess Anise truly did not want to have to deal with. True she had entertained the idea of contacting the Inquisitor, but she really did not want to have to explain to her brother she found Fen’Harel while hunting in woods, or how deep she had ventured into them.  

Having grown up with two older brothers who simultaneously excluded and were over protective of her, she had never experienced the kinship that came with having a sister, or a sibling for that matter—until she met Deshanna. Coming into her magic turned out to be a blessing in disguise. At the time, Deshanna had been the First, and took Anise under wing as the Second. Despite being six years apart they grew close, their relationship evolving from role model, to mentor, to confidante, to sister as Anise aged and studied beneath her. When their previous Keeper died during a Templar raid, Deshanna and Anise’s roles shifted within the Clan, but their bond did not. And now the steadfast hand on her back only amplified the shame and nervousness blossoming in her chest as she continued to deceive one of the only people she felt respected her.

“Please, Hanna, I just need some space… with this.”

“I understand,” she consoled, “you never do anything without sound reason, and I trust your judgement. If say you need space, I will give it. Come to me when you are ready to talk about him.”

Before Anise had the chance to choke on her screaming conscience, Iseranni came barreling through the wing’s entry way shattering the tender moment, looking winded but smugly victorious.

“Wvyern!” she gasped between breaths, “wyvern venom, the arrows were dipped in a wyvern venom.”

Anise’s stomach dropped.

_Oh no._

“ _Fenedhis_ , Anise, keep that spell going,” Deshanna ordered, sprinting away to the supply wall and throwing open jars and containers, “Isera, grab an ample amount of dried elfroot and embrium. Mix it with the healing tonic we made from prophet’s laurel to make an oral antidote.”

“How do I—“

“Boil it,” Anise and Deshanna yelled in synchrony.

Anise shifted her weight from foot to foot, attempting to keep a steady stream of mana following while peering over to Deshanna as she began prepping vandal aria, felandaris, amrita vein, and anti-venom to make a salve.

_If the Wolf dies, you’re condemning your entire clan._

“Deshanna, let me make it,” Anise asked impatiently.

“I’m almost done—I just need dawn lotus. Did we restock our lotus reserves?” Deshanna huffed, throwing open the lotus jars with more force than necessary.

_His sentinels will want revenge, they’ll hunt you down._

“I think so, the merchants will have some if—“

The Keeper cut Iseranni off, grabbing her hand mixing the antidote. “Go clean up Tah’riel outside and tell him we need dawn lotus in here, NOW.”

_They’ll destroy everything…_

“ _Deshanna_ …” Anise’s voice quivered, “Distract me.”

 “Tell me exactly how to treat wyvern bites, Ani.”

_…everyone…_

“Flush the wound, apply the anti-venom salve and keep the wounds bandaged. Reapply the salve every two hours until the swelling reduces and the discharge stops,” Anise heard herself answer back, but the words seemed so monotone and far away.

_…unless…_

“And once it stops?”

_…you save your people’s most feared enemy._

“You apply a condensed salve potent strain of the salve and seal the wounds. Give an oral antidote twice a day until the wounds are no longer inflamed. Change bandages as needed with elfroot and embrium.”

Anise glanced down, and realized she was clutching Fen’Harel’s hand.

 _What would your brother, the_ Inquisitor _, think of you now?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! I love seeing your comments xD <3


	3. Chapter 3

To say she was exhausted would be an understatement. Anise felt like hadn’t slept in days. Deshanna had explained to Anise when she began her training as First, that art of healing was one of the hardest magics to master, it took precision, impeccable control, deft dexterity, and raw power. The Keeper comforted her that in time her stamina would improve, and she wouldn’t feel so drained when casting after a year or two.

Anise washed the palms of her hands vigorously, rinsing away the blood and guilt that had stained her skin over the course of the afternoon. She scrubbed until the water ran clear, but no matter how hard she rubbed, the guilt still managed to seep into her palms. It clung to her like wet leather gloves, coarse and uncomfortably heavy.

Iseranni had been able to instantly track down Tah’riel, who had been emptying the remains of his lunch behind _Var’Haminan_. Together, the two quickly enlisted a few other merchants to deliver ample bundles dawn lotus to the infirmary. Because of the merchants’ haste, Anise had been able to concoct several vials of the salve and painstakingly apply the medicine on every puncture on Fen’Harel’s body. She made sure her elfroot infused bandages were wrapped with precision as Deshanna guided her with words on how to properly bind them, upholding the numbing spell as Anise worked all afternoon.

Tah’riel did not stick around long enough for Anise to thank him, making a mental note as she shook the last few droplets of water off her hands and returned to Fen’Harel’s side that she would have to hunt him at some point the next morning. Anise gently checked the Wolf’s bandages. He was laid bare from his dressings, so she could monitor them in case they leaked. She had a sinking feeling she would be up all night, suspecting he would need them changed more frequently than every two hours judging by their current state.

Grabbing a fresh blanket, she pulled the cloth over his body, turning it down at his stomach. The temperature was dropping as the sun sank lower beneath the horizon. She doubted the Dread Wolf would appreciate being laid out for the entire world to see. He would need clean clothes, clothes that could he could easily be changed in and out of to reach his bandages.

A subtle noise drew Anise’s attention from her idle thoughts. Deshanna had entered the wing, pausing to lean against the entryway’s wooden frame, looking just as exhausted as Anise felt.

“How is everything?”

“His fever still has not broken,” Anise reported, resting her hand against the Wolf’s forehead, “and he still has not woken yet. His wounds are still steadily leaking, I fear he will need changing once per hour, and— “

“Da’adahlen, I meant how is everything with you?”

Anise glanced over to Deshanna again, revealing her fatigue and let the Keeper read it plainly on her face.

“Get some rest. I will watch him overnight,” Deshanna offered, taking a step forward.

A jolt of unease rippled through Anise, “No!”

“You could use the sleep— “

“So could you! Should the clan need a healer in the ‘morrow you will be more useful than me, I will stay by his side tonight. I’ll rest in the morning, promise.”

“Hmm,” Deshanna penetrative stare only increased the unease churning in her gut. The Keeper remained silent for a moment, as if collecting her thoughts before speaking once more, “Alright then Ani, he will be in your charge. I will return in the morning. Wake me if his condition worsens, and you need an extra hand.”

Anise nodded once, and looked back down at Fen’Harel. It ate at her that at some point she would need to rest, which meant he would be left alone with the Keeper or Iseranni. She did not want to let him out of her sight. If he awoke when she was not there… she stifled a shudder. It would lead to disaster. 

“Oh, Ani, did you get a chance to see Tah’riel this evening?” Deshanna turned back to ask.

“Not since this afternoon when he dropped off the dawn lotus,” Anise replied, walking around Fen’Harel’s cot to sit on the stool by his head.

“Me neither. I wanted to thank him, but he seems to have vanished,” Deshanna paused, her thinking almost audible, “He probably ventured into the city to celebrate. I heard they made great profits at the market today, the merchants did.”

“Hmm,” Anise hummed absentmindedly, touching the Wolf’s face again.

_Why had his fever not broken?_

There was a suspended silence, and Anise thought Deshanna had finally left her alone.

“Why can’t I stop worrying about you?” she asked him quietly, not expecting an answer.

“You’ve always had a big heart, three times too large for your own good. I hope he recovers, for your sake.”

Deshanna’s comforting voice disrupted the stillness, startling Anise. She retracted her hand from his face in a flash, fisting it in her lap as she peered over her shoulder at the Keeper. Anise returned the polite smile Deshanna offered, watching as her Keeper drew the beaded curtain to seal off the Wing from the rest of the infirmary as she finally left.

Closing her eyes, Anise listened for Deshanna’s footsteps to fade. When she was sure she was truly alone, Anise exhaled loudly. Her eyelids felt as if they were made of lead, as did as her head that had begun to pulse with a dull ache.

“You owe me big time Wolf,” she muttered, blinking heavy her eyes slowly open to glare enviously at the sleeping Fen’Harel beside her.

Leaning her elbow on her knee, she propped her chin in her hand and settled in for a long night of observation and monitoring. She found her gaze being continually drawn to the sharp lines of his jaw. Her eyes traced over his paled lips before following his jawline up to his high cheekbones. The fact that he was bald was, in truth, a bit shocking She would have piqued the Dread Wolf to be, well, much hairier given his title. She found herself imagining what he would look like with a full head of hair. If his eyebrows were any indication, the color would a little darker than her own, a deep reddish brown perhaps. The lack of hair only added to his overall mysteriousness. She had never seen someone with such… striking features. He was taller, his musculature slightly larger than most elven men she knew, including...

Her eyes darted to the cloth covering his lower half before she could stop herself from looking. Heat flared in her cheeks as she realized where her thoughts had taken her.

_Oh creators, save me._

She covered her face with her fingers, wallowing in waves of shame and embarrassment.

_It’s not your fault your brother didn’t warn you Fen’Harel was attractive._

* * *

 

A loud crack thundered in the distance. Anise bolted up into a standing position, spinning around to suddenly come face to face with the looming trees of the forest. Her heart beat wildly against her ribcage, like hare caught in a trap, as she sharply twisted around towards the cot on which Fen’Harel had been laying a moment ago—only to discover it had disappeared, as did all the other beds… and the infirmary itself.

A cool breeze caressed her face, blowing away the flyway strands of hair that had fallen from her loosened bun. Soft grass pressed against the bare soles of her feet as she took in her surroundings. She kept turning in slow circles, looking in every direction in an attempt to orient herself to where exactly she had been thrown in the woods.

The forest and its surroundings… it didn’t seem right. The sky was tinted an eerie shade of green, dark clouds swirling behind the ominous tree line before her. The trees were swaying, _moving_ , seemingly more _alive_ than ever before. The wind was rustling through their branches, making it seem as if they were whispering about her, the strange intruder in their midst. Her sensitivity to the spirit of the forest had never been this heightened before.

_This isn’t real. This can’t be real._

A balmy gust of air caressed the base of her neck, as if someone had breathed against her skin.

She spun so sharply the jarring movement shook out the rest of her hair, falling in thick russet sheets that obscured half of her face. She had thrust out her hands as she twisted around to push away whoever, or whatever, had been standing behind her a moment ago…

…but nothing was there. She lowered her arms cautiously, scoping out the edge of the trees in the distance for any sign of movement. She could have sworn she heard the trees laughing at her distress. The hair on her neck raised when she felt the presence return, breathing along the side of her throat—only this time it spoke. A solitary phrase rasped uncomfortably close that sent her tearing off into the forest.

“ _Run, Da’len_.”

Her clothes caught on the branches of smaller trees, jagged and sharp, as she ran through the thick forest that seemed as if it was closing in on her. The cloth tore as it got snagged the brush she was now forcing herself through, scratching and drawing little droplets of blood from her arms and legs. She felt something slither around her ankle before her world violently tilted.  She let out a frustrated cry as she was ripped off her feet by a vine that had erupted from the earth. It constricted around her calf, pulling tighter as she struggled against it. The more she wriggled, the tighter it closed around her leg, slowly inching its way up her thigh. Pain flared as thorns sprout the vine, piercing her leg.

She summoned fire, the heat pooling in her palm before the flames ignited with more force than she intended. A surge of power coursed through her veins, her mana felt endless, almost too easy to manipulate...

_This is a dream… I’m in the Fade…_

She lobbed a highly charged fireball at the base of the vine, scorching its thick hide and setting it aflame. A screech echoed in the tree branches as the fire spread down the vine. Keeping the fire lit in her hand, she grabbed the tip of the vine aiming to snake around her waist. The fire burned through the vine, and it fell apart in blacken fragments all around her. She scrambled backwards, pulling herself up and wincing as she tried to put weight on her scraped up leg. It was agonizing, but she had no other choice but to keep running.

A blurred movement caught her attention out of the corner of her eye. She clamped a hand over her mouth before she let out a cry of shock. She ducked behind a large tree whose roots were smothered in leafy ferns. Slowly, she let herself sink to the ground covered by the giant leaves of the strange plants whispering around her. Her instincts kicked in, and she realized with dawning horror _she_ was being hunted.

_By a demon… or Fen’Harel?_

She hastily brushed the hair from her face, tucking it behind her ears. Looking down at her leg, she gauged the extent of damage she received. Her ankle was red and swollen from where the vine had curled itself around her, the force of its constrictions evident on her bleeding skin. She flexed her foot causing a sharp pain to shoot up her calf.

 _At least it’s not_ actually _broken._

Heavy wheezing echoed from her right and she froze, straightening against the rough bark at her back. The predator returned, she could hear its footsteps circling the around the brush she had situated herself in. Its pacing slowed down, and Anise could practically hear it crouching, getting ready to pounce. She needed to move. Now.

She catapulted herself forward, drawing upon her elevated mana reserves to fade step through the forest. The forest anticipated her action, several roots and vines shot out of the ground forward where she had fled, alerting her predator to which direction she had taken flight. She didn’t dare look back. She summoned fire once more and let it jump from her fingertips to the foliage brushing across her as she fade stepped. The forest could not go on forever; it would have to end eventually.  

Eventually turned out to be sooner than she expected. She felt the ground disappear beneath her feet before plummeting down into a ravine. Her shoulder took the blunt of her fall, somersaulting over the hard, rocky surface she had landed on. When she ceased her tumbling, she simply laid there in a heap, watching little clouds of dust kicked up from the earth by her heavily exhales as she tried to steady her shaking breaths.

Groaning, she lifted her head and blinked away the tears that had gathered from her unexpected descent down the side of the cliff. Through the haze, she made out a lush field laying before her at the bottom of the ravine, the blades of the tall grass swaying hypnotically back and forth before her eyes. Weakly, she pushed herself up into a sitting position, cringing as new parts of her body began to ache.

_It all feels so real._

She stared blearily at the rippling field, willing herself to wake up from this nightmare with no avail. She was stuck in this creators-forsaken barren expanse of the Fade it seemed, with no way out. Hopelessness wormed its way into her heart, filling her chest with heavy sense of dread, making each breath harder to take. Panic began to set in as she felt the presence that had been stalking her in the forest above return, the sickening sensation spreading across her exposed flesh. Her heart tried to beat faster with its added weight, making each moment more painful than the next as she sat in petrified silence waiting for the demon to appear.

A section of the field suddenly shifted haphazardly, the blades of grass quivering erratically before ceasing to move all together. She held her breath and focused in on that section.

The field rippled oddly again, but this time, the brilliant green grass began to rot, the blades molting and turning a sickly color before withering away. The dying grass began to spread in winding way, convolutedly makings its way towards her.

“ _Found you_ ,” it rasped.

Anise choked on the scream forcing its way out of her throat. There was no escape.

As it closed in, Anise could begin to make out a set of glowing purple eyes, burning in between the dead grass steadily growing larger.

_This is it._

She had known that there was always a chance demons could possess mages in their sleep, but she never thought it could have happened to her. Once it overtook her, would she remember anything? Would she wake up an abomination and wreak destruction on her clan? On Wycome? Her mind jumped to the worst possible conclusions as she pooled all the mana she could muster, erecting a shimmering barrier in one last attempt to defend herself.

The demon abruptly stopped in its tracks, its searing eyes blowing wide as it began to cower away from her, gradually taking small steps. It didn’t turn around. It kept its gaze transfixed on her… no… not on her.

 _Behind her_.

A tremor wracked down her spine at the thought that something worse might be at her back.

_You need to turn around._

Anise carefully turned her head, stealing a stilted glance over her shoulder. Her jaw dropped as she gazed at a massive shadow looming only a few feet away from where she was, six glowing red eyes blinking into existence, glaring past her at the creature in the grass. It let out a low, guttural growl that sent a current of pure terror shooting down her spine.

The shadow materialized into the shape of a Wolf as it launched itself clear over Anise and into the tall grass where the creature had been crouching not a second before. The Wolf raced after it, disappearing into the dying grass, leaving a trail of black ash raining down in his wake. Anise felt the last of her courage drain as she scoured the field for any sign of fighting; but the glen had gone eerily still. If the Fade did not kill her, the anticipation of who would triumph over the other surely would.

She did not mean to scream, but it burst from her lips more abruptly than the Wolf when he launched out of the grass, landing gracefully before her. In her defense, she had been bottling the shriek for quite a while. Words failed her as his named died on her tongue.

 _Fen’Harel_.

She thrusted herself backwards, slipping as she tried to gain traction against the rock to haul herself away from him. But the Wolf made no move to go after her.  Instead, he peered down at her, blinking his multiple crimson eyes.

 “You are not safe here.”

“You can talk?” she gasped, barely above a whisper.

The Wolf chuckled. _Chuckled_.

“Of course, though that is unimportant at the moment. What is important is leaving this place.”

The Wolf took a tentative step towards her, fur billowing like black wisps of obsidian smoke leaving a light trail of ash in his wake. Anise forced herself further back, colliding with the hard wall of rock behind her. Her head began to pound harder than it had been already.

The Wolf’s expression shifted from light amusement to confusion. He was silent for a moment until his eyes lit up with a sudden realization.

“You still see me as a wolf.”

It wasn’t a question—It was a statement.

Anise flicked her eyes from the tip of his ears to the sharp points of the claws on his feet, and gulped.

He began to pace.

“It would make sense,” he started, his voice dropping into melancholic rhythm, “Your people have lived their whole existence believing I am the great betrayer, some kind of monster, it is only fitting that you should see me that way here,” he paused in his circling, face falling into guilty expression, “Perhaps I am.”

Anise found she was having trouble breathing, she did not expect the Wolf to cause this kind of reaction in her. She thought she was braver than that. Apparently not.

Flakes of ash continued to rain off his fur as he resumed, deep in thought. After a few moments he continued, “The Fade distorts the world around us to reflect our feelings, to make us see what we want to see, playing upon our emotions and distorts its surroundings to coincide with how we are experiencing in the moment...”

His pacing came to halt once more as he glanced back down at her.

“You are afraid of me,” he said slowly.

“…Yes.”

There was no use in denying it, it was written clearly on her face. She was petrified.

“And you… have every reason to be. Perhaps… in time— “

His sentence was cut short when he sharply turned his head back in the direction of the eerily swaying grass behind him, his ears perked on alert.

“You must flee,”

“I don’t know how!” she declared agitatedly, finding a small ounce of courage from her frustration.

The Wolf rapidly closed the distance between them and nudged her with his muzzle.

“ _Wake up_.”

* * *

 

Her world shifted again as Anise fell backwards off the stool, sending it clattering to the floor. She pulled herself up, chest heaving, and brought a hand to clutch around her throat where she felt the Wolf had pushed her. She quickly surveyed her surroundings, noting the beds, supply wall, and Wolf laying in front of her. She was back in the infirmary. She yanked the leggings she wore up to her knee, and nearly choked. An angry, red burn encircled around the base of her ankle, coiling its way up her calf.

_It was real._

She thrust the fabric back down, covering the evidence of her struggle with the vine and counted to ten. Once she had caught her breath, she swiftly scrambled to her feet and leaned over his prone form.

“Come on, now it’s your turn. Wake up,” she hissed at his sleeping figure, glaring at his eyes that fluttered beneath their lids, “ _Wake. Up_.”

He gave no indication that he had heard her request.

“ _Dirthamen damn it all_ , WAKE UP,” she barked, shaking his good shoulder roughly. She knew that wasn’t the way to appropriately or ethically handle a patient, but this was Fen’Harel, and he probably deserved it for some reason or another over the course of his immortal existence.

No reaction.

Anise narrowed her eyes and leaned closer, brandishing a finger an inch away from his face and swore, “ _By the grace of Ghilan’nain I swear if you do not wake— “_

The sound of man clearing his throat snapped her out of her oath.

She straightened herself sharply, curling her hands into fists and tucked them behind her back as she met Tah’riel’s puzzled expression.

“Yes?” she snipped.

“I… need to speak with you—,” he swallowed visibly, “—in private.”

Anise glanced down at the sleeping Wolf and her stomach worried itself into a knot.

“I can’t leave him alone Tah’ri, speak your peace here.”

“I can’t do that… it’s… about, well I have some questions…,” Tah’riel stammered, eyeing Fen’Harel as he addressed Anise.

“Spit it out, Tah’ri,”

“About him. And you.”

Anise sighed, closing her eyes. She did _not_ want to have this conversation with Tah’riel. He wouldn’t be hard to fool but she didn’t need to add more guilt to her already burdened back by making up more lies, especially to him.

“Tah’ri— “

“Please, Anise. I’m serious. I have questions.”

Her eyes flew open at his tone and met his hard gaze. He was never this forward. She studied the worried expression he wore, his eyes flaring with… was that fear? Anger?

Anise looked down on Fen’Harel one last time.

_Rationally, he can be alone for a moment or two, he’s stable. You’re behaving oddly._

“Alright, you have my attention. Let’s step outside.”

She followed Tah’riel out of the wing, observing the way the muscles of his back flexed through his linen tunic with each step he took, how he repeatedly clenched his fists at his sides. Something was upsetting him, and she could probably guess why.

Tah’riel was an open book, and it was no secret he had grown fond of her. And she had done nothing to encourage his affections, but never flat out took action to deter them either. She had hoped it would be a passing fancy, but…

Tah’riel did not stop once outside Var’Haminan. He continued toward the merchant stands, not even slowing down to see if Anise was behind him. He was on a mission. Anise had no choice but to speed up and follow Tah’riel past his stand, and into his aravel. He held the door while he ushered her inside, double checking no one had followed them inside.

“Tah’ri, you’re making me nervous.”

“You’re making me nervous,” he countered, locking the door behind him and walking to his bed built into the wall. Anise tracked him across the room and her heart stopped when she saw what was lying on his bed.

Bow, Quiver of arrows, satchel… her belongings from the woods.

“You did not do what I think you did.”

“I did,” he countered, “I went to your camp. I didn’t want to be useless— “

“You’re not useless, Tah’ri— “

“I wanted to do you a favor. I knew your hands were tied up with that healing ritual… you were going to be busy, so I ventured into those—those gods-forsaken woods for you,” he explained exasperatedly, mussing his golden curls.

Anise pressed her lips into a thin line.

“I found your camp, after getting lost about two times,” he huffed, increasing the rate of his speech, “and what do I find once I finally reach it?” he threw his hands up in the air as his voice pitched up, “ _A bloody mess_ , Anise! And worse, this!”

“Tah’ri— “

He snatched a pouch of her bed, unfastened the strings and dumped its contents into his palm. She went still as she took in sash of badges, each intricate detailing depicting a different accomplishment, the design uniquely _Elvhen_.

It was part of Fen’Harel’s armor she had stripped him of.

 “Ani, this man you’ve been… seeing?”

Her took a shuddering breath in, unable to meet Tah’riel’s gaze, “What about him?”

“He gave this sash to you, do you know what this means?”

Of course she knew what it was, but her lips remained sealed.

“It means he’s an _ancient_ …,” he took a step closer, “…isn’t he?”

She remained silent, the gears in her head cranking at a high speed to think of something, anything to say to explain her way out this. Tah’riel believed it was gift, but it still didn’t change the fact of _what_ the ‘gift’ was, or what order it represented. But if she could make him believe it was a sign of affection, it would further strengthen her story of having a lone paramour in the woods.

“… _isn’t he_?” Tah’riel asked again when she didn’t answer.

“Don’t ask me about him again.”

“What? Ani— “

“I said, drop it Tah’ri, it’s personal. Forget you saw anything,” she cut him off, moving swiftly to claim the sash out of his grasp. It stung to hurt him like this, but if she could push him away, make him keep his distance from her and stop asking questions, the safer he would be. And the less lies she would have to weave. She threw it in her satchel and slung the bag over her shoulder, holstering her bow on the other, grabbing her arrows before turning to face him again.

“Ani, don’t—don’t do this, don’t pull away from me. You can talk to me about this, we’re… _friends_ ,” Tah’riel pleaded, a twinge of heartache catching in his voice on his last word. He moved to place himself between Anise and the door.

“Tah’ri I need you to stay away from this. I can’t make you promise anything, but please, just forget about it. It’s none of your business,” she gently brushed him aside and paused at the door, “ _please_.”

She left him standing there with a mixed expression of hurt and shock on his face, making no effort to follow her as she strode out of his aravel.

_This is bad._

Reality sunk in as she rushed back to Var’Haminan. Tah’riel had ventured into the woods on her behalf, and while that gesture was sweet, it now made matters that much more complicated. Tah’riel truly cared for her, and she didn’t know how far he would go to keep her safe. He always tried to be so foolishly brave. His strengths settled in charisma and bartering, not bows and knives, and he constantly tried to make up for it, though Anise never thought there was anything to make up for. She didn’t know if she could trust Tah’riel to keep this between the two of them, only time would tell where his loyalty lied. But a more pressing question was rattling around Anise’s mind, an extremely important and more concerning one.

_Where had the rest of Fen’Harel’s armor gone?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had planned for this to be updated yesterday, but I unfortunately fell quite ill and it delayed me significantly. I love reading all of your comments, they give me life! Thank you to all who read, have left kudos and commented! <3 I look forward to hearing your reactions if you feel like leaving them! xox Bird


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Cliffhanger warning*

Anise’s mind was reeling. Someone had moved Fen’Harel’s armor.

_Tah’riel would have mentioned if he saw more than just the sash… wouldn’t he?_

Worrying her lip between her teeth, she barreled through the entrance to Var’Haminan. She would have to find time at some point to sneak away and investigate the remains of her abandoned camp for clues. Which would mean venturing into the woods—an excursion she did not feel as confidently about undertaking now since having had that nightmare…She was so distracted with thoughts of returning to her camp, the Wolf’s missing armor, and Tah’riel’s suspicions that she didn’t even notice Deshanna standing over Fen’Harel until she nearly ran directly into her.

“Deshanna, what are you doing here?” Anise exclaimed, taking a startled step back.

“Oh you’ve returned!” Deshanna greeted mildly, turning to face her, “Just when I thought you’d never leave his side... Where did you run off to?”

“I went and spoke with Tah’ri,” Anise explained quickly, reclaiming her spot by Fen’Harel’s head and eyeing the fresh clothes Deshanna was now offering her.

“ _Ah_.”

“ _Ah_ what,” Anise said pointedly, depositing her belongs on under the Wolf’s cot before accepting the garments. She inspected them with perhaps more scrutiny than was necessary to avoid making eye contact with Deshanna. She did not want to see the Keeper’s coy, mocking smile.

“Let him down easy, Ani.”

Anise scoffed and rolled her eyes, setting aside the fresh tunic and leggings on the bedside table.

“Tah’riel cares for you, it’s sweet,” Deshanna continued, returning her attention to Fen’Harel.

“It’s nonsense,” Anise countered, resting her hand on his forehead.

_Still fevered, damn._

Deshanna quirked a brow and gestured brashly to the sleeping Wolf, “And what’s going on between you and him isn’t?”

Anise retracted her hand from the Wolf’s heated skin, slowly curling her fingers into her palm. She stared at Fen’Harel for a moment longer than necessary, studying the sharp angle of his jaw as she felt Deshanna studying her.

“It’s different, he’s… different,” she finished lamely, busing herself with inspecting his bandages.

_They all need to be changed._

Deshanna’s voice pitched up, “Different _how_?”

“ _Please_ not right now,” Anise heard herself quietly whine, “You told me I could come to you when I was ready.”

“Well I changed my mind, yes now,” Deshanna prodded, sneaking around his cot to slide up against Anise’s side, following Anise’s gaze which had returned again to the Wolf’s face, “I might not get another chance to speak freely with you, as just the two of us. When else are you going to tell me? After he wakes up?”

Anise’s stomach dropped. She knew Fen’Harel would eventually have to wake up, but the reality of _him waking up_ and what that would entail hadn’t really sunk in until that moment. She had not schemed that far ahead yet.

“We haven’t really discussed it—us, we haven’t really discussed us. What we are. Exactly,” she scrambled to answer, avoiding Deshanna’s penetrative eyes.

“So, you’re telling me it is just casual sex with a _flat ear_ in the woods.”

Anise choked, “No! _Hanna_! It’s… much more complicated than that.”

_What an understatement. If the Keeper only knew the truth…_

“Okay fine,” Deshanna chuckled, “I will wait until after he wakes and you had a chance to talk before stealing you away and grilling you about future children.” Anise blanched. “Oh! That reminds me,” the Keeper suddenly announced with a snap of her fingers, “Atiha went into labor this morning!”

Anise’s head snapped up at the news. “Really?!”

“I have Iseranni monitoring and assisting with the delivery. I would have asked you but,” Deshanna glanced down at Fen’Harel, and the damned smirk reappeared, “you’re a bit preoccupied with the possibility creating of your own.”

“ _Hanna!_ ”

The Keeper’s deep laugh echoed throughout the wing as she sauntered over to the supply wall. Anise huffed and crossed her arms. She had been eagerly waiting to assist in this delivery since she first found out about her oldest brother’s bondmate’s pregnancy, and had a hunch Deshanna was using this to test how serious her level of commitment was to the strange man she dragged out of the woods.

Was it fair? No.

Did she want to go? Absolutely.

But she couldn’t risk leaving Fen’Harel for _that_ much time.

“You will need to get out of this infirmary and rest eventually,” Deshanna spoke, as if reading Anise’s mind out loud, “so stop by Atiha on the way to our aravel. You’ll get to meet the new babe,” Deshanna taunted, grabbing fresh bandages and salve before crossing over once more and handing Anise the materials, “He will need to be washed and redressed… I can do it if you’d rather be with your Atiha.”

“No, I’ve got him, _ma serannas_.”

Anise wanted to grab Deshanna by the shoulders and shake her until that sly smile was wiped off her face.

“Then I’ll leave you to bath him in peace,” the Keeper insinuated with a wink, and Anise groaned loudly enough to make sure Deshanna heard it over her cackling as she exited the wing.

 _Hanna could be such a loveable pain_.

She purified her hands with a cleansing spell and prepped her healing station; organizing the salves, potions, fresh wrappings, as well as a disinfectant solution to wash his wounds with. Peeling back the cloth covering his lower body, she forced herself to not linger on certain parts of his anatomy as she set to work. Starting with the bandages at his thigh, she gently unwrapped the blood soaked cloth and discarded it in the trash basin behind her. Anise frowned, the swelling had decreased but only marginally. At least it was a sign her salve was potent enough to begin to reduce the inflammation. He would still need to take the oral remedy once he woke up.

 _If_ he woke up.

“You know,” she announced to the sleeping Wolf, summoning her mana and casting it over the first bottle of disinfectant, “now would be the best time to wake,” the liquid inside lit up as she pulling it up out of its container and guided it through the air with her will, “this is probably the most privacy we will get, given that everyone who might bother us is otherwise occupied at the moment.” She paused, letting the liquid hover above his thigh and waited for a sign of response.

When she got none, she sighed heavily and manipulated the liquid around his wound, cleansing the site until the disinfectant was stained red. She released her spell and let the used disinfectant fall into the trash basin. After cleansing came protecting. She opened the salve jar with more force than was necessary, tossing the lid off to the side with a loud clatter.

 _Gently_ , Anise reminded herself as she spread the salve over his wound, creating a healing barrier that would help seal his flesh with the least amount of scaring.

“I honestly can’t figure out why I am so worried about you,” she murmured, setting aside the salve in favor of the fresh bandages, “It’d be so much easier to not care, or to hate you… but… how can I do that when I don’t even know you.”

Anise wasn’t the type to hate without reason, though his rumored reputation as Fen’Harel should have given her reason enough. She couldn’t quite believe all the speculations flying around about the Dread Wolf. She just couldn’t quite believe her brother so blindly. Being a skeptic at heart she had always been driven by the need to learn and form her own opinions independently, priding herself on making fair judgements _after_ investigating situations on her own. _‘Keeping the peace’_ as it was a Keeper’s duty to do.

That was her predetermined destiny after all, when Deshanna stepped down. Anise would make a terrible Keeper if she didn’t practice what she preached, even to the Dread Wolf. And besides, she could use this opportunity to gain his trust, learn of his intentions, perhaps find a way to prevent ‘ _impending doom’_ … as her brother had phrased it.

Ghilas’an had changed much over the years, so much in fact it was startling. Her brother had once been a man full of life, the center of attention with a bright and magnetic personality… but the last time she saw him she barely recognized him. He was carrying a weight she had never detected in him before, a sense of darkness haunting his very spirit, as well as many new physical scars.

Fen’Harel drew a ragged breath, causing Anise to sharply glance down, stilling her hand.

They had been close once, The Wolf and the Stag, as people in their clan had come to call Ghilas’an. Anise learned of their relationship by breaking into her eldest brother’s aravel while he was out hunting, and reading the reports Ghilas’an would send to him about his new life as the leader of a rebel peace faction, the Inquisition. She wasn’t supposed to read the letters Eltheran received from Ghilas’an, being deemed “too dangerous for a young woman to take party to” by Eltheran, but that did not stop her. She had grown accustomed to being treated this way by her brothers, and had developed strategies over the years to avoid their smothering protectiveness.

Anise resumed her cleansing, remembering how fondly she remembered reading the letters, recalling the rise of budding excitement in her gut as she would devour Ghilas’an’s adventures with his companions—both their successes and failures. What a life he was leading while she was stuck in the monotonous life of a First. Ghilas’an frequently mentioned the Wolf though he called him by some other name before he discovered who his ally truly was, Ghilas’an had trusted the Wolf, considered him kin, even called him _brother_. And then…when the truth was revealed, Ghilas’an shattered.

If her brother could befriend the Dread Wolf and gain his respect, then so could she.

_But what if you fail?_

After his thigh had been cleaned, treated, and wrapped, she grabbed the pants from the pile of fresh linens on the bedside. She quickly, but carefully, pulled them up his legs, mentally chiding herself to not stare as she drew them over his hips. She readjusted the blanket to cover his lower half before she moved on to this other puncture sites, repeating the process as she lost herself in thought about the morality of her actions in saving Fen’Harel, and what Ghilas’an would do if he knew. It took her past sunset to finish bathing, cleaning and rewrapping—she couldn’t help but be thorough and meticulous.

She dipped a clean towel into a basin of fresh, cool water and wiped away the dirt and grime from his upper body, using soft strokes when she neared his wounds. She couldn’t help but admire his figure as she pulled the rag across his skin, the light dusting of freckles on his forearms and ribs was… kind of attractive… in an endearing way. She found herself wanting to trace lines between the darker dots… but that would be entirely inappropriate. She shook her head, clearing away the temptation.

_Focus, Ani._

It was truly a crime his face had freckles too, making it near impossible for her not to gaze as she wiped the sweat from his fevered brow. Her touch was tender as she caressed the side of his face, washing away the signs of sickness that plagued his resting expression. The last thing she expected was for him to react.

Gasping, he clutched at her, his eyes fluttering open as his fingers constricted themselves around her wrist when she reached the bottom of his chin.

The unexpected motion sent her, and the towel, flying backwards. Ripping herself out of his grasp she let loose a cry of surprise that echoed around the wing. Suddenly on the defense, she conjured a barrier between herself and the Wolf.

“Fen’Harel…?” she called to him once the shimmering wall was fully formed around her, recovered from her shock.

She didn’t move as she watched in suspended silence as his chest slowed in its heaving, and his hand fell limp off the side of his bed.

“No, no no no, you don’t you dare!” she exclaimed, eliminating the barrier she had just erected and rushed to his side. She braced herself on the edge of his cot, leaning over his face and studying the way his eyes fluttered beneath their lids.

_Asleep again._

 “Fenedhis,” she lamented, straightening up and rubbing her face. He had woken for a moment and she let the opportunity slip away with her cowardice.

_This poison must be taking quite the toll on him, if he can barely stay awake even for a second._

She peered at him through her fingers, noting the way his breaths, though not were not deep, were still labored. Taking her hand off her face, she cautiously reached out towards his arm, recoiling after she made contact with his skin, afraid he might try and grab at her again. When he did not, she gently took his hand and placed it back on the cot.

She waited with baited breath.

When he made no other visible effort to move, she released a loud sigh. Bending down, she picked up the towel she had accidentally dropped in a wet heap on the floor and tossed it across the room into the dirty linen bin.

“Guess I deserved that,” Anise muttered out loud, standing and turning to her station to scoop up and shake out the fresh shirt Deshanna had brought.

“What you deserve is rest,” Deshanna’s voice echoed throughout the wing, causing Anise to flinch, “I’m ordering you off duty, as your Keeper, to go be with your kin and sleep. Preferably in the reverse order.”

“Deshanna,” She spun on her heel, clutching the shirt to her chest, “What—No—you’re supposed to—I can’t leave him— “

“Yes you can, for a few hours _at least_ so you can finally rest,” Deshanna chided sharply, flicking her ear when she drew in close enough.

Anise grimaced and rubbed the tender spot as Deshanna snatched the shirt out of her grasp. She made to retort but silenced herself once she got a good look at the expression on Deshanna’s face. It was no use fighting her on this, not when the Keeper was sporting her “ _I mean business_ ” glare.

“And besides, there is someone who is waiting to meet you,” Deshanna continued, lowering her tone and twisted her lips into a smile, albeit a small one.

Anise’s heart lightened. “The babe?”

“Born not too long ago. Iseranni is dressing her as we speak. Though you might be able to intercept, if you hurry.”

Anise hesitated, almost taking a step towards the exit.

This was her niece… but… Fen’Harel had just… sort of … woken up. She couldn’t possibly leave now, could she?

What if he truly woke up while she was away, the first person he met was Deshanna? Could she take that risk?

Her indecision must have shown plainly on her face, “Go Ani, he is still very sick but stable. I can almost guarantee his condition is not going to change over a few hours. Go.”

Anise bit down on her lip, hard. “You get me the _moment_ you begin to notice anything different.”

A simple nod was all she got, before Deshanna chased her out of the infirmary, literally.  The cool evening breeze washed over her flushed face as she slowed down to a brisk walk. She turned her head towards the looming trees by the edge of their encampment, feeling the energy of the forest stirring just outside their settlement limits. It felt almost as if it was feeding off her aura, alleviating all of her nervous energy. It left her with excitement building in her chest that only swelled more with each step she took towards her bondsister’s aravel.

* * *

 

Deshanna smiled fondly after Anise, watching her First disappear out into the late evening. Anise had always been loyal, it was one of her redeeming qualities but sometimes, Anise would take that loyalty to fault. She was glad the girl gained some independence and sense of purpose—and that Anise finally had found comfort in someone else’s presence.

Deshanna turned to face the presence in question, and her smile faltered.

Though she was glad Anise had found companionship, she couldn’t fight the uneasy feeling churning in her stomach as she crossed the room to the sleeping man.

“I don’t particularly know why I don’t like this,” she announced to him, slipping one of his arms into the shirt, “perhaps this is what being an older sister truly feels like, but she doesn’t need another overprotective figure questioning her life choices.”

Deshanna finished pulling the loose tunic over the man’s head before finishing her thought aloud, “But for her sake, I’ll be watching you.”

* * *

 

Anise’s heart skipped a beat as she peered inside her bondsister’s aravel, holding the door open so Iseranni could slip past.

Atiha was reclining on her bed, looking utterly exhausted but overjoyed. In her arms was a small wriggling bundle of cloth to which she was singing. At the sound of the creaking door, Atiha glanced up and halted her song, a wide smile breaking across her flushed face when she saw Anise hovering in the entryway. Anise had to restrain from throwing her arms around her, instead falling in by Atiha’s bedside.

“Congratulations, you have a niece,” her bondsister said in greeting, with a smile that somehow continued growing larger.

“You have a daughter! You should be the one being congratulated, Atiha,” Anise responded, placing her hand on her bonded sister’s forehead, brushing away some of the strands that were clinging to the sweat on her brow, “What’s her name?”

“Enasali,” Atiha cooed, gently pulling the cloth down to stroke the stroking the small child’s head, “would you like to hold her?”

Anise nodded, and let Atiha place Enasali in her arms. The baby was fragile, so soft. Tiny fingers latched onto Anise’s thumb as she adjusted the bundle to set comfortably in her arms. The baby’s big eyes blinked open as Anise snuggled her close to her chest. They didn’t stay open long before a large yawn overtook Enasali, and she emitted a contented gurgle. How peaceful the little one rested in Anise’s arms, warm, loved, safe…

Anise swallowed thickly.

If what Ghilas’an said was true… how much longer would this infant remain that way after the Dread Wolf woke from his slumber and destroyed everything?

Anise’s eyes stung as she looked fondly upon the small life that lay nestled in her arms, drooling lightly on her tunic... it wasn’t _fair_. It was cruel that this innocent child wouldn’t get the chance to thrive before even given the chance to live.

She had to find a way to stop the Wolf. She needed to act like a Keeper now more than ever. For Enasali.

“She’s beautiful,” Anise whispered, her voice cracking as she rocked the baby gently. Her heart aching dully in her chest as Enasali yawned again.

“She reminds me of you.”

“What?” Anise looked up at Atiha in surprise.

“She’s quiet and curious.”

“How you can you tell? She’s only a few hours old!” Anise chuckled, looking back at the infant curled up in her arms.

“You were the same way when you were born.”

“How so? And how can you possibly remember that?”

“I had celebrated my eleventh name day the month prior! I have an excellent memory, I’ll have you know,” Atiha protested light heartedly, “You barely cried. You were so alert and aware, so inquisitive. I can already tell she is going to be just like you,” her bondsister smiled, “I can’t wait for your mother to meet her. When does she return?”

Anise kissed the little one’s head and extended her back to her bondsister, placing her daintily in Atiha’s awaiting arms, “She should be returning with the rest of the political escort in a day or so.”

“Your father too?”

“Yes, the last city council meeting for the summer season concluded this evening, so I think all his duties as liaison have been fulfilled. They should be arriving tomorrow, sometime.”

“You must be so excited to see them again! I’m sure your Mother will be eager to hear about that man waiting in the infirmary for you,” Atiha teased, repositioning Enasali on her chest so the babe could sprawl out comfortably.

“Mmm,” Anise groaned, “Deshanna told you.”

Atiha laughed earnestly, “Yes she did. I’m excited for you Ani.”

“Thank you, but please don’t get _too excited_. It’s not as a big of a deal Deshanna is making it out to be. I think she’s more invested in it than I am truthfully,” Anise explained, tucking a stray piece of fallen hair behind her ear.

“I don’t believe that for a second,” Atiha looked at her knowingly, trying to curb her smile from blossoming wider on her face, “and neither will your mother. I’m sure she’ll want to hear everything.”

“I’m sure she will too,” Anise agreed flatly.

Atiha laughed again, this time it was a gentle clear chime that warmed Anise’s heart. She let her lips curve into a small smile in return, squeezing Atiha’s hand.  Atiha was always so positive, so uplifting, it was a mystery to Anise how she was compatible with eldest brother.

“What do you think Ghilas’an and my Eltheran will think of your mystery man?” Atiha asked after a moment.

The pleasant feeling that had begun to spread through Anise suddenly turned cold.

“I don’t think anyone will ever meet the expectations of either of my brothers,” she said, to humor Atiha.

“Oh don’t say that, they haven’t even met him yet!”

Anise chose not to comment on that.

“Has the Ghilas’an sent word that the Inquisition will be returning for the Equinox festival?” Atiha quickly asked, changing the subject after sensing Anise’s discomfort, “I’d very much like for Eltheran to meet his daughter.”

“Last I heard from _Inquisitor_ Ghilas’an,” Anise let his title come out as a sarcastic drawl on her tongue, making Atiha snort, “a majority of his Inquisition’s forces are stationed in the Western Approach. So even they left today, I doubt they would make it back in time. The journey home from Approach is quite the trek.”

“Damn,” her bondsister cursed quietly with a twinge of a frown.

This must have been so hard for Atiha, Anise thought to herself, to bear through a pregnancy and to birth a child alone. Letters travel slow in the desert, and there was a high chance that Eltheran hadn’t received the news Atiha was nearing the end of her pregnancy. It seemed like an impossible feat to do alone, but that was the cost of being bonded to a warrior—they might not always be around.

“I will let you know the moment I hear any news from the Approach, Atiha. I’ll let you rest, I can only imagine how tired you must be.”

Atiha chuckled softly and rested her head back against her pillow, “It was worth it.”

Anise quietly left the aravel, stealing one last glance at Atiha holding Enasali before shutting the door behind her. Meandering through the encampment, she made her way to the aravel she shared with Deshanna, thoughts swirling around about her eldest brother’s child. Eltheran would be proud, although he wouldn’t show it. Emotional expression was not in his nature. He was naturally more reserved, save for when his temper got the best of him. Being one of the strongest warriors and expert military strategists Clan Lavellan had to offer, Anise assumed he fully embraced the “stoic solider” role. It was no wonder Ghilas’an wanted him to serve as one of his Inquisition’s advisors in the fight against Fen’Harel. It was just unfortunate he was called away before the birth of his child.

_Well, at least the new baby will distract Mother from Fen’Harel, for the most part._

Her stomach twisted uncomfortably. Now without Atiha to keep her mind off her sleeping Wolf, the uneasy panic had begun to settle in. Being away from him only amped up her nerves.

_What if he wakes and—_

She raked her fingers through her hair and down her face, shaking her head to stop that thought from fully forming. She could not let herself dwell on the what ifs, or she would never be able to rest.

Pushing the door to her aravel open, she slipped inside and lit the small lanterns hung along the walls with a snap of her fingers. The fires illuminated the space as she made her way to the bed settled against the far wall, leaving a trail of clothes in her wake. She snatched her night tunic off one of the pillows, enjoying the way the silken fabric caressed her skin as she pulled it over her head and down her body.  The fatigue from her near constant casting over the past two days finally overpowering the nervous tension budding in her mind as she crawled beneath her sheets…

* * *

 

She hit the earth, hard.

Groaning as the spinning in her head finally began to stop, she mustered enough strength to push herself up out of the dirt. Almost immediately she was overwhelmed by a putrid, overpowering stench and began to choke, the coppery taste of blood staining her tongue with each cough. Wiping the back of her hand along her mouth, she rid herself of the warm liquid pooling on her lips and attempted to quell her rolling stomach. Taking a deep breath through her mouth, she attempted to center herself enough to discern just where she had landed. It took a few beats and couple blinks to let her eyes adjust to the dimness of her surroundings, and a moment for her head to clear from its disorientation before she realized, with a sudden sinking feeling in her gut, that she had not fallen out of bed.

_No, no no no… another dream…_

The splatter of water droplets smacking the ground echoed eerily in the dim cavern, a rhythm both taunting and foreboding.

_What is this place?_

Pulling herself to her knees, she summoned a small wisp. The tiny ball of light bounced in her palm, illuminating the strange cave around her. The cavern walls arched high above her, a seemingly endless pit of darkness. She could just barely make out the perimeter of the room, noticing a darker patch to her left, the entrance to a tunnel.

_The only way out._

Shakily, she stood. Before setting off, she tested her balance by shifting her weight from foot to foot, making sure she hadn’t twisted anything. Anise couldn’t recall spotting any caves on her excursions in the woods… perhaps she had landed in a different part of the Fade than the last time?

When she reached the menacing entryway, she placed one hand on the—what she soon discovered to be slimy—wall, stifling a gag as she held out the light with her other and tentatively took a step forward. The light cascaded down the narrow passage to reveal a curve that veered off to the right.

_Just pretend you’re exploring, and everything will be fine._

Anise was used to travelling alone, frequently venturing off into the woods on hunting trips by herself when she needed to break away from Clan life. But there was no guiding presence to be found here, no sense of vitality that she normally felt while running through the trees—it was disconcerting. Hunting in a forest was much different than exploring a cave, alone.

Her unease skyrocketed tenfold when a sickening scraping noise emanated from behind, shattering her illusion of solitude.

She cried out, spinning around to shine the light back down the passageway she had traversed, heart pounding against her ribs wildly as she scanned the dim shadows for any sign of motion. The only thing she was able to detect was the vague remnants of her frightened gasp, and the pounding of her frantic heart.

_You’re hearing things. Keep moving._

It took every ounce of courage to turn away from the direction the sound had resonated but mustered it somehow, and did so cautiously. Keeping her back and left hand pressed to the moist wall, she held out the light so she could easily see in front and behind her, hesitantly checking both directions after every few steps.

_Better to be safe, then sorry._

The tunnel emptied out into a larger cavern, devoid of anything remotely welcoming. Anise shivered involuntarily. Several more openings, or perhaps if luck was on her side, exits, lined its walls. Anise could faintly count seven gaping crevices illuminated by her mage light. Paranoia sunk in as she realized she could perpetually pick the wrong exit, propelling herself deeper into the maze of the underground cavern. She would need to evaluate each opening attentively for signs of light or any other indications that it could lead to a way out this nightmare.

A blood curdling screech rang out, filling the cavern with such a deafening cry it elicited a scream of her own from her lips. She tried to muffle the noise with her hand but the sound of her terror still escaped.

 _No time, pick one and run_.

She chose the second tunnel, and took off at a sprint towards the entry way of the confined space, not daring to look back. The eerie scraping noise could be heard once more as it followed her through the winding labyrinth of a passageway, but this time the pulse of its scrapes came in much faster bursts. She loped out from the end of the tunnel and let out an infuriated cry. She was back in the large, central chamber again, only this time she had come out of different opening than that of the one she entered. The clashing and scraping of the creature in pursuit grew steadily louder as she deliberated on which tunnel to try next, dancing anxiously in place. She had to take a strategic approach.

_There are seven tunnels, two of which are linked. Operating under this logic, there might be a pattern, which would leave one odd, unconnected tunnel. But which one was it? They all couldn’t lead back to this same place… right?_

She had entered the second tunnel, and exited the fourth. She quickly deduced that if there was indeed a pattern, then the first and third tunnels would be linked. Which would assume that tunnels five and seven were connected, leaving only the sixth tunnel.

She bolted.

Once through the entry, Anise noticed that this tunnel was much larger than the previous one she had taken, and that it veered off into a curve about three meters ahead. The creature giving chase let out another hallowed shriek, signifying it had reached the main chamber. Anise sprinted until her legs burned, willing herself faster to close the distance around the curve. Perhaps the creature would pick the wrong tunnel, if she could just get out of sight.

Skidding around the curve, she extinguished the wisp of light. She slammed herself against the wall, and counted to ten, syncing her racing breaths with each number she mentally tallied. She could hear the monster slithering around in the main chamber, the scraping of its body against the stone floor ricocheting down the long passage way. Anise suppressed a whimper with the back of her hand.

_You have to be quiet, any noise will echo._

She began to creep along the edge of the wall, tip toeing as quietly as she possibly could so as not to alert whatever was lurking around hunting for her. She could feel the earth begin to rise on a slight incline, and she took it as a good omen that she was going in the right direction. After she put some distance between her and the tunnel entrance, the monster’s noises slowly subsided.

_Perhaps it chose the wrong tunnel, you would hear it if it chose to search this one._

Anise picked up her pace, treading with a light foot to avoid any bumps that might cause her to trip. She wanted so desperately to run, but the fear of being discovered kept her feet at a brisk walk. It seemed like the tunnel was never going to end, there was always another slight curve in the passageway, leading to a long, straight stretch of path before turning into another bend. Anise could feel her agitation and desperation coiling tighter with each turn she took. The only sign she had that she was going in the right direction was that steady inclination of the path. It was rising at a sharper and sharper level with each bend, until a small ray of light could be seen washing over the dirt floor around the last curve.

_The tunnel is getting lighter, there must be an exit!_

She broke into a run as she rounded the final turn. Beautiful beams of light streamed in from the open mouth of the cave as she raced towards it. She could feel the tears welling, she was _so_ close.

A guttural cry gave out behind her… no, she realized with dawning horror… _above her_.

She glanced up while dashed towards the light, tears falling down face as she saw a set of glowing amethyst eyes following her, racing along the passageway’s ceiling.

_It had trailed her the whole time._

Anise kicked herself in overdrive, muscles screaming in protest. She had to make it out of the cave. A dark shadow appeared at the entrance, blocking out the only source of light. Her heart seized as six crimson eyes twinkled into existence. The shadow coalescing into the shape of a giant wolf. She skidded to a halt, or she tried to as she came face to face… or chest… with Fen’Harel.

“Grab on!” he commanded.

She had no other choice but to listen, after she felt the ground vibrate beneath her feet as the creature detached itself from the ceiling, dropping onto the cave floor. Without a second thought, Anise swung herself up onto the Wolf’s back, clutching onto the thick fur on his neck. The moment she had secured herself, the Wolf lurched into the bright sunlight. They tore through a barren, rocky mountainside, leaping from lock to rock as they scaled down landscape.

Another terrible shriek sent a tremor down Anise’s spine, causing her to tighten her grasp around Fen’Harel’s neck. She peered over her shoulder, and wished she hadn’t. The creature was vile, with dead, malting flesh hung from its sickly snake-like skeletal frame, slithering down after them at an alarming speed.

“Faster!” Anise bellowed, whipping her head around to see something just as equally alarming.

The world was crumbling apart beneath his feet, a sizeable gap separated them from the next patch of rock. Anise quickly shut her eyes, burrowing her face into the fur of his neck, not wanting to watch what she full well knew was going to happen. Within the next moment she was weightless, stomach rolling as the Wolf pushed off from the stone, flipping violently when they reconnected with the ground once more. She lost track of how many leaps and bounds he made, choosing to focus on more important things instead such as trying to breathe, before the Wolf made one last jolting drop and finally slowed to a trot.

“We should be safe, at least for the moment.” Anise felt the rumble of the Wolf’s voice through his fur wrapped around him, her posture rigid and eyes shut tight.

When she made no effort to move when the Wolf came to a stop, he turned to bump her thigh with his snout. She peeked out from the tuft of fur she was buried behind and saw they had arrived at a small clearing, a little glen of sorts situated by shores of a bright lake. The lapping of the waves against the sandstones eased her anxiety, and she slowly peeled herself off him. Sliding down his side and taking a few staggering steps away from his massive form.

The first thing she noticed was that her hands had been stained with soot from handling his fur. It had gathered lightly on her leather armor as well, and she set to brushing herself off, watching the ash flake away into thin wisps smoke that dissipated into the air.

Slowly, she lifted her head to look at the Wolf.

His tail was idly rippling, like his fur in the gentle breeze. His once obsidian coat had lightened, taking on a more charcoal gray coloring that pitch black. Like the ashes that fell from her clothes, small flakes were also falling from his body. Staring up into his six eyes, she noted they did not glow as menacingly as she remembered… and they changed color?  Were they not red back in the cave instead of the crystal blue that gazed back at her? Or perhaps the Fade was playing tricks on her…

She found her voice after a moment gaping at him, “You… saved me again…?”

The Wolf cocked his head to the side, and she would have thought the mannerism cute if he were not analyzing her.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“That is a question with a complicated answer, a question that I could just as easily ask the same of you.”

She drew her lips into a thin line.

“Are you not the one who rescued me, despite obviously knowing my identity? Why, might I ask, would you do that?”

How could she explain to the Fen’Harel she made an impulse decision, listened to the overwhelming intuitive feeling that asked her to not let him die? This feeling stronger than any rational thought she ever had. How could she explain that without sounding like a complete babbling fool to the alleged _‘God’_ before her?

“I… don’t know,” she replied slowly, gauging his reaction.

“Then we are at an impasse.” The Wolf’s fur bristled as he lowered himself into a reclining position in front of her. “Perhaps we should start with simpler questions.”

“Such as?”

“Your name, I would like to know it.”

Anise crossed her arms and imitated his inquiry, “And for what reason, might I ask, would you like to know that?”

“So I can properly thank the woman that is keeping me alive.”

“How do you know I’m not just slowly killing you?” Her words came out braver than she felt.

The Wolf contemplated her remark for a beat, “Because I can feel my strength returning in waves, stronger each time I see you. I recognize your aura.”

“That… is a bit creepy.”

“It is useful, in the Fade— “

“Alright, so I’m keeping you alive,” she made a silencing gesture with her hand and his jaws snapped shut with an audible click, “I have a simple question for you.”

“Alright,” he replied, a hint of annoyance in his tone.

“ _What was that thing_? What does it want from me? Why do I keep getting drawn here?”

 Her questions came tumbling out, one right after the other without pause, interrupting Fen’Harel before he could answer.

“That, is three questions.”

She groaned, “Would you please just tell me what in the Void is going on?”

He tensed, staying quiet for half a second to long.

“Is it because I’m healing you,” Anise hedged a guess.

“One question at a time,” he said, collecting his thoughts, “As to your first, the creature is a spirit, _obviously_ ,” Fen’Harel emphasized with a flare of snarkiness, “though your people would commonly mistake it as a Demon.”

“ _Obviously_ it’s a demon,” she rolled her eyes, “What I meant was what kind of demon.”

“That, is different question.”

_Was he… sassing her?_

She stared at him in disbelief.

_He was._

“It seems this particular corrupted spirit— “

“—Demon— “

“— _Spirit_ ,” Fen’Harel corrected before continuing, “has gotten quite attached to you.”

Anise felt herself blanch, “ _…attached_?”

“Do not panic, but I believe it has imprinted on you.”

“How is that not supposed to make me panic!?” Anise exclaimed, voice cracking as her knees gave out and she sunk onto the soft grass in front of him. This was too much.

“Knowledge is power. As to its motivations, my hunch would be that the Spirit is in need of something from you.”

 “A physical form.” She gulped, clenching her fists in her lap to stop them from shaking.

“I believe it is much more complicated than that.”

“How can it _possibly_ be more complicated?”

“You appeal to it on some level, it wants more than just your body. It wants your essence,” The Wolf’s eyes took on a faraway expression, “You must be the cause of its awakening…”

An outraged screech pierced the air, sending both of their heads in different directions for its source. Fen’Harel was on his feet in a matter of seconds, his massive body looming over and immediately shielding her.

“You should wake.”

“Fen’Harel, _what_? You can’t just— “

“Whatever you do, do not let it touch you,” he interrupted as she jumped to her feet, his eyes scanning the horizon with a renewed alertness. She could feel the tension rolling off him in waves.

“Why. You’ve barely explained anything! Why must I not let it touch me? What kind of spirit is this thing?!”

“Until I can figure out a way to disguise you, you are at risk by simply being in the Fade. If it can sense your aura as strongly as I can, and track you as easily as I am able…just—I do not have—we do not have time. You need to wake up.”

“And what am I supposed to until you figure that out? _Avoid sleeping_?”

His head sharply turned towards the lake. “That is not what I said. Stay awake as long as you can. When you must sleep, I will find you first.”

A large ripple formed in the center of the lake, causing Fen’Harel to start to growl.

“And why would I let you stay with me while I dream?”

“You stay by my side when awake do you not?” he countered almost immediately, darting his eyes to the side to glare at her before refocusing his attention on the disrupted glassy surface.

“Good point.”

“We are out of time. You must wake,” he shifted to block her view from the lake.

“And what about you?”

“I have unfinished business here.”

 “If you do not become conscious soon, the poison in your body will kill you! You need to take the antidote—there is a limit on how much salves and magic can do!”

When he did not respond, she cried out, “You need to wake in order to purge the toxin from your system!”

He rapidly spun around to face her.

“Promise me you will try!”

“ _Wake up_.”

The exact moment his muzzle nudged her chest, the foul decayed demon erupted from the lake. Anise could feel herself being drawn out of the fade by his magic, helpless but to watch as the demon lashed out at Fen’Harel, its slender form coiling around his body, constricting him before submerging him into the lake.

Anise woke up screaming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *slides in with an update two months late with starbucks* 
> 
> My life has been utter chaos as of late. if you follow my blogs you might have seen some of my PSCs (Public Services Chirps--lol I think I'm punny), so I apologize for the delay. I've been working on this the whole time. Just slowly. xD
> 
> have 17 pages worth of angsty plot! <3 I'd love to hear your reactions


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fen'Harel awakens.

The ground raced beneath Anise’s bare feet as she propelled herself through the dwindling twilight. Each breath she took stung as her lungs fought to take in more air to compensate. Her mind was buzzing with a thousand questions and yet she could not formulate one, as if all her thoughts turned into static the moment it surfaced. She was acting purely on instinct as she tore through the encampment, closing in on Var’Haminan, terrified of what she was going to find waiting for her there.

Bursting through the entrance the wing, she surveyed the room and noted a few things. Iseranni had pressed herself against the far wall, hand covering her mouth. Given by the expression and terror in her eyes, she was caught in a silent scream. A few vials had been broken and their contents were slowly spreading out on the stone floor, and Fen’Harel was on the ground.

And _awake_.

Tremors were wracking through him as fresh blood seeped out of old his wounds, and new burns etched their way across his chest in front of Anise’s eyes.

“No!” she screamed, piercing the deafening silence.

Anise came to a halt and dropped to her knees before Fen’Harel. She gripped him by the shoulders and rolled him over attempting to repress his convulsions to get a better look at the new wounds. His piercing blue eyes met hers and her breath caught. He clenched his hand around her wrist as a small line of blood leaked out of the side of his mouth when he tried to speak.

“Something was in _here_ …He started screaming and then he fell… I… I…” Iseranni stuttered, tripping over her own feet as she tried to put as much distance between herself and the convulsing man before her, “ _I could feel it_.”

 “ _You’re awake_ , _you’re alive_ ,” she breathed, voice getting caught in her throat as she held his gaze while completely ignoring Iseranni entirely.

 “Not… safe…” he said, barely above a whisper.

“Not safe, what’s not safe,” Anise tried to retract her hand, but he caught it with his held on tightly.

“You.” He began to cough, blood spluttering from his lips as he attempted to control the fit.

Ice slid down her spine, at his words or the sight of his blood she couldn’t be sure.

“The poison, it’s reached your lungs, I need to… I need…,” Anise broke their contact and frantically crawled over to look around her station by his cot. Not finding what she wanted, she glanced over at the still petrified Iseranni pressed against the wall, “Isera, antidotes, salve, and bandages,” Anise bellowed, “ _now_!”

“ _I don’t understand, I don’t, I don’t understand_ ,” Iseranni kept muttering in shock as she pilfered through the medicinal shelves, haphazardly yanking the items Anise had listed off.

Anise carefully maneuvered herself around Fen’Harel, lifting him gently with one hand behind his head and the other slipping beneath his back. She adjusted him in her lap, noting his tunic had been torn through, pieces shredded off with charred edges—as if someone, or something, had slashed at it with a searing blade. Peeking through the tears of his shirt were gleaming streaks of vivid red. She reached for the bedside stand and pulled open the first drawer, blindly groping inside for the knife she knew would be in it without breaking eye contact with him. With trained precision, she sliced through the front of his tunic, revealing burns that spanned ravenously across his skin. Cautiously squatting beside her, Iseranni extended the materials with an unsteady hand.

“What’s happening to him, Ani,” Iseranni asked shakily, inching away from them, “Ani— “

“I need you focused,” Anise said, leveling Iseranni with a calm stare, “Can you do this?”

Iseranni swallowed, eyes darting over to look over Fen’Harel’s chest before glancing back. In a small voice she replied, “I don’t… I—I can try.”

“Good, help me lift him onto the bed.” Anise gestured with her chin towards his legs, “Once he’s on, draw upon your mana and cast a numbing spell as I work.”

Iseranni shook her head minutely in confirmation, and crept over to help shift Fen’Harel onto his cot. The Wolf remained as silent as he could, a few gasps escaping as they repositioned him. He did not take his eyes off Anise as she moved. When she began to unwind his old now blood soaked bandages, Iseranni choked, spell breaking apart with a sharp crack.

“I don’t think I can do this Anise. _Something is here_ ,” the second kept sharply looking around the room, “I—I’m going to get Deshanna— “

“No! Don’t,” Anise barked, startling Iseranni even further, “We can’t always keep calling on Deshanna when things go wrong. One day it will just be the two of us.”

It was an unsettling thought, one Anise avoided dwelling on most of the time, but was true nonetheless.

Iseranni blanched, “Ani… I’m sorry… I can’t,” she scrambled backwards bumping into the wall, “I’m not ready…”

Anise was left standing there open mouthed and in shock as Iseranni darted through the wing’s entry way.

Alone. Iseranni had left her, alone. It was now only up to her.

A squeeze on her wrist brought her attention back to the Wolf.  “I can do this,” Anise whispered to herself as looked down at Fen’Harel, whose face had twisted into a grimace, eyes painfully screwed shut.

“Fen, stay with me here,” she whispered as she leaned over him.

He made a pained noise in response, one that despite knowing that his was _Fen’Harel_ she was dealing with, caused her heart to break and for her to quickly press a gentle finger to his lips. His eyes flashed open to meet hers.

“Don’t speak, just…stay awake for me, okay? I’m going to get you through this.”

He reached up once more and wrapped his fingers around those of hers by his mouth, giving another, softer, squeeze. His reaction caught Anise off guard, causing her to flinch ever so slightly but not enough to pull her grip out of his hands. She cast a lingering gaze at over at their entwined fingers before she returned it. He gently released her hand, and let it fall to his side. Turning her attention back to his chest, her stomach churned for a moment. The burns looked… horrifying. The marks were bright and blistering, she could only imagine how much pain he must be in, and he was masking it so well. That was, until she went to heal them. He let out a distressed hiss when her hands made contact with his wounded flesh, tensing up as she moved over his seared skin. She bit her lip, summoning a numbing winter spell to her fingertips to ease some of the pain as she worked. The grimace on his face eased little by little until his brows were the only thing left furrowed. His eyes fluttered open every so often when he’d reach out, trailing his fingers along her forearm to let her know he was still awake, still with her.

She was terrified to think what would happen if he slipped back into sleep, that… creature might be waiting for him if he ventured back into the Fade. If it possessed him… would she have to kill him? She cringed at the thought, _no one should have to be subjected to this_ , and pushed through the fear. She had so many questions eating her from the inside out, but she had no idea where to start. Did she flat out confront him about his plans once she was done healing him? Did she ask if he was alright? Did she demand an explanation for the demon haunting her through her dreams, their dreams? Moving through the motions of cleaning, healing, and rewrapping his wounds with fresh bandages, her mind continued to race. She had absolutely no idea what was going on, and she hated every second of it. One moment she was in the Fade watching him get pulled underwater, and the next she wiping his blood off her hands again.

 _If he was underwater, how had he gotten burned?_  

There were too many questions, and not enough time. She took a deep breath and tried to let all the thoughts go as she was trained to do as a First, and as a healer.

 “Alright, the worst is over… I hope,” Anise said softly after she had finished her handiwork and centered herself, pulling the blanket at his feet up and over the length of his body.

But the sound of a bowl clattering to the floor a few feet away had her spinning around with her surgical blade raised, poised to attack, shattering the illusion of calm she had so painstakingly tried to emulate.

_Iseranni had said something was here._

She made to edge away to peer down the row of cots when something grabbed at her from behind. Whipping around with the blade drawn, she noticed that it was just Fen’Harel leaning over and gripping onto her tunic.

 “Fen, don’t!” Anise snatched an extra pillow from an adjacent bed, rushing to slip it behind his back to reposition him. He met her confused and terrified look with one of concern.

“Ignore it,” he rasped.

“Why? Where—” she almost turned again but he tugged more insistently on her shirt, as if that was all he had the energy to do.

“The veil, it is thin… weak, give it attention—give it power.”

She followed his line of thought.

_It was lurking around, pressing against the weak spots around them, the more she focused on it, the stronger connection it had._

“It’s here but, it doesn’t have a way through,” Anise said slowly, watching as the Wolf sluggishly nodded, “And if I try and find it… it’ll bring it through…?

“Yes… senses you through me.”

_Iseranni was right, none of this makes sense._

Anise swallowed, thickly. Unsure of what to do, she cautiously inched back towards his cot. It was surreal that she could feel its presence now despite trying to ignore it. The more she focused on it lurking the stronger she could feel it slithering about the room. She needed to pretend like it wasn’t there, despite being able to sense it’s prowling around her.

Her skin crawled.

_Focus on him._

“Right. Antidote,” she announced, her voice coming out pitched higher than normal.

Uncorking the vial she took from her station, she brought it to his lips and helped him get down a small swig. The antidote did not go down smoothly, he choked even on the tiny amount she offered. After letting his coughing pass and his breathing return to a normal rhythm, she let him drink again. She waited nervously sitting by his side on the edge of his cot, allowing him to take small sips of the potion, letting him regain some semblance of strength. She studied the rise and fall of his chest, watching the muscles tense and retract. She used her free hand to smooth a piece of the bandaging that had come off across his collar bone, and he went still. Their eyes met but she didn’t remove her hand. He watched her as intently as she had been watching him. Instead of pulling away, she let her fingers lightly follow over the rest of his bandage to check to make sure it was secure. She cleared her throat and lifted the bottle back up, gesturing to take another sip. After the Wolf had gotten down just over half the antidote, he spoke up.

“My name… is Solas,” he managed hoarsely, settling back against the headboard now covered by the extra pillow she had taken earlier with her help.

_Solas._

She recognized the name from reading her brother’s letters. An alias he had used during his time with the Inquisition, or so she had previously thought.

“Solas is your name, not Fen’Harel?”

“No,” he shook his head, and it looked like it took all the energy in him to do, “I was Solas first. Fen’Harel…came later.”

Her mind latched onto his wording “ _Solas first_ ” and what that implied, but her heart was worrying for entirely different reason. A sense of unease trickled down her spine at the sound of his labored breathing. The draught should have begun to alleviate the pressure in his lungs on consummation, partially healing the damage done by the venom. But he was _still_ struggling.

This was becoming more complicated than she anticipated.

“Well _Solas_ , listen very carefully. I don’t know how much time I have to explain before our privacy is interrupted. You are very sick, and it appears like you will be staying here for a while. You are in no condition to… do anything really. So, you’re getting another name and story,” she said, lowering her voice and trying to hide the nervous edge to it as she extended the draught back to him, motioning for him to hold it on his own this time, “Your name is now Darrian, you are a trader that I— “her tongue stopped working.

His expression changed subtly from contemplative to puzzled at her abrupt silence.  A weight dropped into her stomach as she realized she was going to have to tell the Dread Wolf they were lovers to mask her extra cautious behavior.

“Bear with me, but I did not want you to wake up and not have me here to explain the situation, or worse have you do something stupid reveal yourself. I needed an excuse to be by your side that wouldn’t raise suspicion, so I could be the first person to talk to you,” she said slowly, gauging his reaction before she continued, “So, I started a rumor that, ah, we are lovers who have been meeting up in secret at night for the past few months.”

He looked taken aback, “You haven’t told anyone who really I am?”

Anise straightened to full height, “I can’t very well have you using your real identity here _, you are in a Dalish camp_ , if anyone found out who you truly are… there would be chaos. Which neither of us are prepared to deal with.”

His lips downturned at the edges and gave her a resigned look, “I should expect no less.”

She narrowed her eyes, “What did you expect?”

He closed his own and let out sigh, as if releasing whatever thought he was about to say in favor of staying quiet. She had half a mind to interrogate him on his plans and “expectations” right then and there but when his response veered off topic, she lost her nerve. His eyes flashed open with newfound curiosity.

“Lovers?” he remarked with a quirk of a brow.

Anise could feel the tips of her ears burn at his sudden change of direction in the conversation.

“I—I—It,” she said scrambling to gather the rational thoughts that seemed to suddenly get lost, fluttering away the longer she stared at his kindling eyes while his mouth twisted into the slightest of smirks, “It was the most logical explanation!”

He laughed, and shouldn’t have. The chuckle faded into a horrible cough, that evolved rapidly into fit. The glass vial he had been holding hit the floor and shattered sending the remaining dregs of the antidote splattering across the stone. Anise sidestepped the shards and began to help him sit up straighter as he covered his mouth. She rubbed his back with light and firm strokes, stopping everyone once in a while to pound lightly to loosen any of the fluid blocking the air from getting to his lungs. His other hand was clenched into the blanket, his knuckles turning white.

“That antidote should have reduced the reaction in your lungs. I’ll have to create a stronger brew,” Anise commented more so to herself than him.

When the coughing subsided, he pulled his hand away from his mouth. It was covered in bright red, glistening liquid. She grabbed a rag from her station and quickly covered it, wiping the blood from his palm before he could stare it for too long.

Anise noticed he let her work without interruption. She could feel his eyes studying her as she turned to deposit the soiled rag off to the side. It made her heart race.

Another crashing sound from behind sent her diving over him, “ _It’s still here_ ,” she gasped, using herself as shield and shut her eyes. When the sound died she slowly opened them, only then noticing how close her body was looming over him. When she turned her head, her nose almost brushed his cheek, barely a breath away from his face. His hands had somehow found their way onto her waist, steadying her as she teetered. The slight hitch in her breath at his touch was unintentional but she saw the way his eyes widened and mouth parted at the sound.

“Just—just keep your attention on me, focus on my voice,” he managed, his cheeks tinting so faintly pink.

His hands still had not moved. And neither had she.

_At least he is just as affected by this as you are._

After a beat of shallow breathing, by both of them, he regained part of his composure and said, “Quickly, give me parchment and a quill.”

His request broke whatever spellbound moment they had been locked in. She felt herself flush furiously at the entire ordeal, hopping back off his cot and tucking stray pieces of hair that had fallen into her face compulsively behind her ears. She threw him a confused look at the request, but found herself darting over to the shelves to retrieve what he had asked.

_Breathe._

He immediately began write in fluid script on the paper the moment it landed in his lap.

“I need to think, give me a moment,” Anise said, again more to herself to separate her inappropriate feelings she was experiencing from her logical thoughts. Placing her fingers on temples she began to mutter out loud, scrambling to recall vital information from private potions lessons from the clan alchemist, “You’ll need a stronger brew, when this combination with dawn lotus doesn’t work, you add black lotus to the potion, which creates a chemical reaction with the dawn lotus and effectively makes it stronger, as long as you boil at an extremely high temperature. Otherwise, it is poisonous.”

“Do you always talk to yourself while you think? It is distracting,” he snapped, despite his cheeks flaring even redder.

“Shut up,” She retorted, putting a little more space between the two of them. The distance managed to give her a little more clarity, for the moment she had stepped back the realization struck her and drained her face from any kind of blush she had been battling before.

“I’m going to have to go into the woods to get it, we don’t have any black lotus in stock, but— “

Out of the corner of her eye, Anise saw the bed two rows down crash into its neighbor, the sheets fluttering askew.

“But I’ll have to leave you alone… here with—”

_You have to focus on him._

“Go,” he folded up the parchment he had been so attentively been writing on and shoved it into her hand, “Read it on your way out, I promise…I will remain awake. It will not break me.”

She stared at him in horror.

“Go!”

She fled the infirmary and did not look back. She felt the scream burning at the back of her throat, but no noise came out when she opened her mouth as she sprinted away.

_Read it._

_Oh no._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually have 1200+ words written :) but I didn't include them because the break felt natural here, and it gives me a head start on the next chapter, which I intend to keep writing now because I'm on a roll after this editing session. 
> 
> Feel free to hit me up on my tumblr if you want to talk fic/Solas/Dragon Age etc! (tumblr username is littleblue-eyedbird)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> not a cliff hanger! :)

With bow in hand, knife in its sheath, quiver over her left shoulder and light pack over her right, she followed the small stream running along the perimeter of the woods on the outskirts of camp. She would need to follow the creek until it joined a larger river that was located just a little deeper in the forest. The plant she was scavenging for, the black lotus, usually only grew along banks of the Storm Coast, but on one her many forays into these strange woods she had come across this river in particular where a few patches of the rare lotus had somehow managed to thrive.

Anxiety had taken up an unpleasant residence in her stomach that not even the calming sounds twilight and the water babbling beside her could relieve. She felt powerless in this whole situation, felt lost. Here she was collecting a rare flower while some demonic entity hunted her, an entity who was slowly killing the Dread Wolf to get through to her and the possible solution to her problems lay written in a note.

A note she couldn’t read.

Much too proud to ask for help and too fearful to let anyone else know the extent of what was going on, Anise did what she did best. She isolated herself. It was better than ripping out her hair like she used to do as a child as she struggled to read and comprehend texts, both in common and elven, though elven was _always_ worse. No matter how hard she stared at words, the letters kept switching around on her, moving as if by their own free will across the parchment.

A cruel joke she thought her brothers played on her, until she realized they did not have magic and therefore couldn’t enchant the parchment text. Telling her mother was the hardest thing she had ever done. She had to learn everything in a different manner than her peers, instead of reading and writing, she received lessons orally. Diagrams with images were drawn for her to help explain concepts.

Deshanna was understanding when it came to teaching her magic, most of it was accomplished through demonstration, and Anise felt like she excelled at something finally that didn’t require her to spend copious hours trying to wade her way through words and letters that wouldn’t stay still.

Healing magic was much of the same, it took precision and practice. Deshanna once told her that she could read all the tomes in the world on healing, and still know nothing. While it was good to have knowledge, it could never replace application and experience.

But this wasn’t going to help her now. She took out the crumbled parchment she had crushed in anger from within her vest, and sat down on a dry rock along the river bank and tried to calm herself enough to attempt to read it again. The effort it took was exhausting. If she had hours to decipher it, she’d be able to get most of it, but she didn’t have hours.

_Three is na evlen arfitact in teh wdoos taht will slehid the doemn form eentring tihs raelm. It si laceoctd at the etrnncae to ugreundrrond tpepmle, not far form whree we fisrt met. Fnid and bnirg it to teh egde of yuor cmap and avciatte it. Let yuor mgiac gidue yuo. It wlil streenghntn the viel soirruudning your Caln, proeetctnig tehm. But wlil waeekn the veil in teh Wdoos._

_Be wray._

Below his script was a messy sketch of what appeared to be a sphere with geometric blocks attached to its surface. At least he had drawn a picture and she had that to go off of. She would just bring it back—whatever _it_ was—sneak it into camp somehow and make up an excuse that she didn’t know how to work it, or whatever he had asked her to do in the note.

She just had no idea where to find it, but she bet it was written on that paper.

She cried out as she stood, pocketing the parchment once more and tossing her bow on the bank before wading into the river. She did not have to stray too far before spotting a promising looking strip of flora. Unsheathing her knife, she began to viciously hack away at the plant life in shame, though not so carelessly as to cut the wrong parts of the plant she needed. The repetitive task of cutting and gathering allowed her to channel her frustration into something productive, giving her space to think more clearly.

She would start where she found him, that seemed like the best course of action. Whatever he was doing in the woods before she found him was probably linked to whatever he drew on the parchment, or at least related some fashion.

After she dried the bundle of black lotus she had gathered and tucked it away in her pack, she picked up her bow and set off deeper into the woods. The last dying rays of light from the set sun were swallowed up by the forest as she ventured further. She could feel the life of the forest around her, heightening her senses. Her eyes adjusted to darkness, but just to be safe, she summoned a small wisp of light to follow her. It was more of comforting presence than a necessary one, since Elves could technically see in the dark. She followed her markers she had etched into the bark of some of the larger trees that would lead her to her hunting grounds. It would be easy to find her old campsite from there.

There was dried blood in patches on the ground from where she had first encountered Fen’Ha— _Solas_ , she corrected herself while rolling her eyes—in her wards. The remains of her fire long snuffed out lay scattered by the wind. The taste of stale magic from her protective spells lingered, metallic on her tongue.

“So Solas, you landed in my trap running from this direction,” Anise said aloud, turning to face the portion of trees that lead into the heart of the forest, “of course you were.”

Suddenly, the energy of the forest spiked, causing a surge in awareness within Anise. She could feel the forest pulling her in that direction, magnetic almost in nature. She took a few steps towards the dark looming trees, as if beckoning her further. The farther she stepped into darkness, the stronger the pull became, like a humming beneath her skin. It drew her off the barely worn path through trees that increasing got larger in size, their trunks easily spanning the width of an aravel. In the distance stood a crumbling stone archway, the spirit of the forest that was channeling her gave an insistent tug, and she followed its lead.

She lifted her hand and ran her fingers over the cool stones. They were enchanted with some kind of magic, ancient, faintly singing beneath her finger tips. Higher on the arch Anise could just barely making out an inscription. Elven, she noted, since the letters jumbling around were even more complex than usual. Through the arch were an eroded set of stairs that led to a small stone clearing. The forest obviously wanted her to go down them. Debris and fallen trees covered parts of the steps and floor, well as patches of moss had reclaimed the once beautiful dais. Stone statues of Fen’Harel in repose were strategically positioned on its perimeter.

In the center on a raised platform, stood the structure Solas had drawn on the parchment. She pulled the parchment one more time just to be sure as she approached. The sphere sat upon a cylindrical base, and had intricate geometric designs jutting from its surface. It thrummed with old magic, lying dormant beneath its smooth surface. Stuffing the now severely crinkled paper back into her vest she extended her hands out to touch it. It heated upon contact, but nothing else happened. She drew her brows down, half expecting it to spark.

“I wish I knew what do to do with this… thing,” she muttered to herself, walking around as she inspected it. She took in its surroundings, its placement in the center of the stone patio, equidistant from the statues of the wolves. It seemed almost as if their eyes were dimly glowing, following her movements as she circled the strange artifact. Fighting off the paranoia, she crossed over to the statue on her left. As she studied it, she got the vague impression it wasn’t just simply a statue. It was hiding something. There were three empty metal torches lining the base of the statue in almost pristine condition, a stark difference to the rest of the dilapidated amphitheater like patio.

_If only you had more time to figure this place out._

Quelling the curiosity blooming within her, she turned and walked back to the artifact, lifting it up and settling it against her hip for a better grip. She severely hoped she wasn’t doing any harm by removing it from the circular dais, but she did not have time to take any more precautions. She walked backwards towards the archway, too nervous to not face the Wolves watching her cautiously exiting the way she came.

* * *

 

The sun had fully descended beneath the horizon by the time she made it, stealthily, back into Var’Haminan. Luck being in her favor that she did not run into any of the night patrols guarding the camp. Not that they would have given her any trouble, she just didn’t feel like starting a conversation revolving around pointless small talk. It would just delay her from objective and stress her out even more.

When she entered, Solas glanced over at her in surprise.

She felt the need to explain herself. “It didn’t work, I didn’t know what to do— “

“Bring it here, quickly.”

She rushed to his side and he reflexively reached out, an iridescent glow spiraling in his palm that spread over his entire hand as he touched the sphere’s surface. Anise gasped as she felt the magic surge through the artifact, causing energy to pulsate from it in electric looking wisps. She nearly dropped it when it began to emit pulse waves that she could feel penetrating her senses, radiating out across the entire room, through the walls and into the encampment and event past its borders. She held on the glowing artifact in awe.

“How did you…what did you do?” She asked, mouth slightly agape.

His lips did thing that slight smirking thing made her heart skip a beat. “Magic.”

_Ugh._

She sighed loudly at his comment, “I figured. Don’t think you are entirely off the hook yet, I’m not done with you,” she warned him, scanning the room for a good place to hide the strange humming artifact.

_What are you going to do with this?_

“I suspect,” he groaned repositioning himself, “you have questions.”

Anise gave him a pointed stare, “You _suspect_.”

He chuckled, or he tried to but it turned into a grimace, “I realize this is not a subject to be amused by, at all, but I find myself amused nonetheless.”

“Trauma has varying effects on people. You seem delirious. Could be the venom in your veins though,” she said shortly, before walking off and setting the artifact in the corner of the room by the supply shelves, tossing a clean sheet from the bottom shelf over it to mask its glow—or at least a good portion of it. He fell silent at her comment. Anise chose that time to gather the materials she would need to boil the Black Lotus and turn it into an antidote. With the leftovers she could make a stronger salve.

She brought everything back to his bedside, determined to get some answers out of him while she worked to clean the plants.

“To be honest, I don’t even know where to start with you,” she finally spoke up breaking the awkward silence that had fallen over them.

“I propose a question for a question.”

“Take turns,” she asked incredulously, “I didn’t think the Dread Wolf played fair. No answering a question with another question.”

“Ah, she sees through my guise,” he countered with a labored breath, “but I can agree to those terms, if you are willing.”

“I guess I’ll play along. I’ll start,” she said, shifting her attention to his face from her cleaning, “Why?”

“Is that your favorite word, _Why_?”

“What did I just say, _No answering questions with another question!”_

“You cannot just ask ‘ _Why_ ’ and expect me to know what you want me to say!”

“Yes I can, you never clarified I couldn’t.”

He exhaled sharply, “I am clarifying now, no vague questions.”

“Fine,” she said, all those questions that had been rattling around her skull suddenly rushed back, fueling her fire, “I have heard many things about you, _Fen’Harel_ , but not enough to understand you. Why were you in the woods yesterday? Why did you betray the Inquisition, your _‘friends’_? Why betray your people? Why imprison the Gods? Why do you hate this world so much you would destroy it simply to relive a dead empire? _Why are we not good enough for you_?”

Her outburst earned her stunned silence, his face frozen as if she had physically slapped him across the face.

_What did he expect?_

He swallowed before answering, “You want an explanation. It would be easier to show you.”

“ _Show me_?”

“Yes, if I promised to show you tonight, would you allow me?”

“You mean, show me in the Fade?”

“Yes.”

Her brows scrunched as she contemplated his offer, “How will I know what you are showing me is real, and not just an illusion?”

“The Fade is shaped by memories, feelings… different perspectives, but I cannot change the facts.”

The anger within her died down to a simmer, channeling the rest of it into heating the water in the small pot she had brought over to boil the Black Lotus in. “Fine. I’m not happy about it, but Fine,” she huffed, “I will be patient and try to understand. You can show me. Your turn.” She dumped the petals into the boiling pot, nursing the brew with subtle pushes of her mana.

“You could have killed me, and yet you did not. I want to understand, why?”

Anise sat down on the edge of his cot and stared at the antidote in the making, collecting her thoughts.

“Good intentions can have devastating effects,” she said slowly, “because good people can make bad decisions…,” she looked over at him, “I’m trying to decide what type of person you are.”

“That is… very noble of you.”

“It is my duty.” She measured out the rest of the ingredients and added them to the brew.

“Then I hope you can see why I must do what I must, must make the decisions I have to make.”

“In the same fashion, I hope you can understand why I am upset with you. I like to make my own judgements after I have considered every angle. I have only heard negative things of you, Solas. I want to know the truth, which means taking your view into consideration.”

Silence fell upon them again for a moment, and only the bubbling of the antidote could be heard echoing around the empty wing.

“I… it has been a long time since I have encountered anyone with an open mind… or at least a willingness to try to understand, pardon my rudeness,” he admitted after some time.

Anise hummed a new question rising to the surface, “Are you truly immortal?”

“Immortal in the sense that my body will not decay by natural means, yes.”

“So not aging.”

“Not aging, per se. That does not mean I cannot die, as you have witnessed firsthand.”

“We’re all elves truly immortal once?”

His mouth quirked into a small smile, “I believe you just asked two questions in a row.”

Anise stuck her tongue out and began to strain the brew into vials, and one tea cup.

“Did you not think I would notice? I am not that delirious.”

“I don’t know, are you,” she teased a bit bitterly, still slightly angry with him. But just because she was angry, didn’t mean she should act on it. Her emotions were hers to process once she had more information.

“Why did you not activate the artifact and leave it outside your camp? Why bring it here?”

She accidently splashed some of the scalding liquid on her hand at his inquiry.

“Ah, _fenedhis_ ,” she spat, shaking her hand to cool the liquid. She set aside the pot and tended to her newly acquired injury, ignoring his question.

“Were my instructions not clear,” he probed after she failed to answer him.

_That is one way of saying it._

“I was under a lot of pressure, and I panicked,” she retorted, releasing the small winter spell she used to treat her burn.

“That seems very much unlike you from what I’ve observed.”

She took a shaky breath. She owed nothing to him. Why should she divulge any of her secrets to him?

_Because you want him to divulge your secrets to you. Trust is built on reciprocation._

What if she told the Dread Wolf she didn’t know how to read? What was the worst he could do? Write insults? Nothing she had not dealt with before. God, or no, she should not care what he thought of her, only that he respected her. Perhaps opening up a bit would encourage him to do the same. Another thought crossed her mind suddenly, that a lover would probably know these intimate details about their partner. If it somehow came out before she told him, it could weaken their cover.

She reached into her vest and retrieved the crumbled ball of parchment.

“I did panic,” she said softly, slowly unfolding the paper, “you see, I… I can’t read.”

She looked aside to read his expression, and found him concerned.

“Has no one taught you,” he questioned in disbelief.

She shook her head and let out a hollow laugh, “Many have tried.”

“I do not understand.”

“When I look at any kind of text, whether it be tome, scroll, carving, a note on parchment,” she gestured with the wrinkled piece of paper, words pouring out, “I can’t seem to get the letters to stop rearranging themselves. They swap places with each other, rapidly. I can’t figure out what the words are… they don’t stay in any kind of order for long…”

She hung her head.

_You will not cry. You will not._

“I did not realize… I am sorry, I did not mean to cause you more distress.”

“How would you know?” Her vision blurred as she stared at the damn piece of unreadable paper.

“I take it that is not your next question,” he said, in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“No it is not,” she closed her eyes and felt the traitorous tears slide down her cheeks.

The sudden soft touch of fingertips on her cheek startled her. He retracted his hand immediately, apology forming on his lips but no sound coming out. She reached up to wipe her face, roughly erasing the wetness from her skin and hoping the butterflies in her stomach would evaporate as well.

“What does the note say?” she asked before he was able to find his words, extending the piece of paper to him.

He read it out loud.

“ _There is an elven artifact in the woods that will shield the demon from entering this realm. It is located at the entrance to an underground temple, not far from where we first met. Find and bring it to the edge of your camp and activate it. Let our magic guide you. It will strengthen the veil surrounding your Clan, protecting them. But will weaken the veil in the woods. Be wary_.”

“I guess my intuition served me well,” she said with another bitter laugh, “I went to my camp and started looking from there. Your turn.” She picked up the tea cup she had set aside and blew on it, steam rolling softly off the top.

He lit the parchment on fire and let it disintegrate in his palm, casting away the ashes once the embers burned out, “My turn,” he repeated, “What is your name?”

She saw only genuine curiosity in his eyes when she gazed at him.

“Anise,” she said, offering him the mug, “my name is Anise.”

Their fingers brushed as he gently took the antidote from her. She let her fingers linger longer than they should have.

“Anise,” he echoed, the cadence of his voice saying her name sending a shiver down her spine, “Thank you.”

He smiled and for the first time, she returned it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of a slower chapter following that last one. And I have 500 some words written into the next chapter so I'm hoping I can keep this streak going and update sometime next week! :)
> 
> Next one will have some Fadey and Feely stuff.


	7. Chapter 7

Anise tidied her station, secretly watching Solas out of the corner of her eye as he finished swallowing the last few sips of the antidote. She tried not laugh at the faces he was making (and failing to hide) at his displeasure of the taste. Emptying out the pot she had brewed the antidote with, she collected the flower petals and dried them out with a simple heating spell. She stored the fragile remains in a jar which she set on the shelf by the dawn lotus salve, to serve as a reminder to add them to the existing salve in the morning.

The shimmering light from underneath the blanket she had cast over the artifact distracted her. The cover was not doing much to hide the glow from its steadily pulsating magic. It was so painfully out of place in the Infirmary, someone was bound to notice the strange heap sooner rather than later. Anise grabbed a few thicker blankets off the shelf and tossed them over the existing lump, dimming the glow almost entirely. That was going to have to do until she would be able to move it across camp and into her aravel, before Deshanna came in for her shift. She pondered if it could be transported while activated, she would have to ask Solas.

Glancing back over at her patient she gave a small sigh of relief. He had fallen asleep. For the first time since she brought him into camp he looked like he was at peace. When she moved closer, she picked up on his breathing. It was coming so much easier than it had been a few hours ago. There was only a slight rattle to his breath that Anise was sure would be gone by the time he woke up. Pulling the covers up slowly she tucked him in, adjusting the pillows behind his head into a more comfortable position. The cot beside his was looking extremely appealing, now more than ever. Stifling a yawn Anise chided herself, she had to do rounds in the right wing before she could rest. Not knowing where her second had run off to, she realized she would most likely be pulling an all-nighter if she was the only staff in the facility. She would have been angry that Iseranni had disappeared if she wasn’t so used to having to handle everything on her own. Anise was left in charge alone quite often, and she learned to just deal with it.

Wandering into the right wing where long term care patients were kept, Anise began her routine check-ins. The right wing did not have many staying there, only a handful of terminally ill patients, warriors with sustained injuries, and one elderly woman who was experiencing chronic memory loss.  To her surprise, Anise found Iseranni tucked away in one of the rooms tending to a young female hunter, relieving some of her pain from a broken arm.

Anise paused in the archway, resting her hand against the frame, “Isera, a moment?”

Iseranni hastily looked over her shoulder and blanched when she met Anise’s eyes. The second gave a slight nod and turned back to the huntress to excuse herself. No sooner had Iseranni slipped out of the room past Anise did she begin talking, not even giving Anise a chance to step away from the arch.

“Anise, I am so sorry, I cracked under the pressure… I should have never left you alone in there. I know what I did was wrong— ”

Anise let Iseranni deliver her full apology without interrupting her, watching as the second tugged at the edges of her tunic, picking at a loose seam. When Iseranni hung her head and stopped speaking, Anise reached out and cupped her second’s cheek, lifting her head.

“I forgive you Isera,” Anise said gently, “I understand this situation was particularly unusual—far more unusual than we normally have to deal with. I have taken care of everything so please do not feel afraid.”

“Did you catch it? Whatever it was, I can’t even begin to describe what I saw, I don’t even know if I actually saw anything. My mind might have been playing tricks on me.”

“It’s safe again. It was one of those pestering creatures the city traders brought in for the market, it must have gotten loose,” the lie rolled easily off her tongue as she retracted her hand from Iseranni’s face, but Anise couldn’t bring herself to regret the fib when she saw the relief wash over Iseranni’s face, “I can stay and monitor the left wing for the rest of the night though if you still feel uncomfortable. Will you be able to handle this wing alone?”

Iseranni shoulders relaxed as she let out a big sigh, “Absolutely, Ani. Thank you, and I promise to try harder next time. I really will.”

Anise smiled at her, “You are young, Deshanna was exceedingly patient with me when I was your age. It’s only fair that I be just as patient with you.”

“But you were much more experienced at sixteen years than I am,” Iseranni muttered.

“Everybody learns at their own pace, Isera,” Anise comforted, “You are doing great, and will only become more successful from here. If you need me for anything, you’ll know where to find me. Don’t hestitate.”

Anise was taken aback at first when Iseranni threw her arms around her torso and squeezed. After a second, Anise returned the hug with a tight embrace of her own. She waited to leave until Iseranni had resumed her spell by the huntress’ side, making sure her second was truly at ease before Anise retreating back down the hall, pondering their exchange. It was true that at sixteen, she was mending bones and assisting with surgeries, which normally only a Keeper’s responsibility, but she concluded her success came from sheer determination, not talent. Since reading was out of the question, Anise needed to feel validated by _doing_ , proving her worth through action and not words. She would not let herself wallow in grief over what she lacked. Iseranni has so much time yet to learn, and Anise hated the fact her second felt overshadowed. It was not her intention. She would speak with Deshanna about giving Iseranni more one on one time, to build her confidence.

Entering the left wing she raised her palm and slowly closed her fingers, dimming the light in the room. Solas was still peacefully asleep, his chest rising and falling at a steady rate. The cot beside Solas’ creaked only a little bit as she pushed it over a few inches to be closer to his, and made no sound as she curled up on it. The pillow was soft against her cheek as she rested her head down, relieved that things had, finally, calmed down.

* * *

 

Cold stone replaced soft cotton against her face, shocking her awake. Shooting up into a sitting position, she took in her new surroundings with a subtle gasp. She found herself in the middle of the same dais where she had retrieved the artifact. In the heart of the forest. Instead of desecrated patio she had walked across in the real world, this place in Fade was fully restored. The archways were intact, and she could make out the intricate designs carved into the smooth stone. Torches were blazing on either side of the arch illuminating the refurbished stairs descending down towards her, inlaid with shimmering stone. The light from the flickering flames cast beautiful shadows from pillars that lined the circular platform, and eerie silhouettes that crept across the floor from the Wolves that stood guard on either side.

A huff of warm air spilled over her neck, sending a shiver down her spine. She spun around and came nose to nose with Solas, looming in his very massive Wolf form. On instinct she pushed herself back, creating space between them. This time, the Wolf was only sporting two eyes—not six, and they were the same piercing shade of blue that watched her in the real word, the kind that seemed to look straight through her. She noted his coat was the lightest of grays now too, nearly white, with the last few flakes falling from his fur in a slow, wafting descent onto the stone.

“Where are we exactly,” Anise asked, recovering from her flinch and pushing herself onto her knees, “…this place? What is it?”

“To a passerby, it appears to be a simple altar. But for those who know it’s true purpose,” the wolf sauntered over to the statue of himself on the right, touching his snout to the empty torch. It lit with green flames and the statue’s eyes began to glow the same eerie color, “It is a sacred ground, a refuge.”

A grinding noise penetrated the silence that hung around the dais as the statue slid back to reveal another set of stairs that led lower into the ground. Anise stood and stepped to the edge to peer into the darkness.

“Is this place safe? What about the demon? You said the veil would weaken in the forest—won’t it be able to find us?”

“As long as you are within the walls of my temple, the corrupted _spirit_ cannot reach you,” he explained.

“So every time I dream… I must find this place? What happens if I don’t automatically land here like did just now? How will I be able to find it?”

“If you focus and channel your mana, you will be able to locate it—in theory. Like any skill it can be taught. Until you are able to learn it, I will find you first and lead you here.”

Once they had descended far enough, the statue slid back into place above their heads, throwing them into pitch blackness. Anise stuck her hand out and grabbed at his fur to make sure he was still there. She felt him bristle under her hand at the sudden touch but did not shake her off, letting her hold on as they resumed going down the steps. Orbs of pale green light began to blink into existence on either side of the stairs as they continued, a small relief but not enough for Anise to let go of him.

“So the _spirit_ ,” she said to humor the Wolf and break the silence that had consumed them, “what was its nature?”

Unease rippled through the Wolf, she could feel his discomfort through the way his muscles tensed under her palm.

“It was once Purpose,” the Wolf explained his voice turning to venom, “defiled and corrupted into Desire, evolving into something entirely new by years of abuse and torture at the hands of its _master_.”

“Master? It was enslaved? By who?”

He pulled away from her hand, stalking off a few steps ahead. Anise could see floor at the bottom and knew they were close, to whatever this temple was of his.

“It belonged to Ghilan’nain.”

Anise stopped cold on the last step.

“Ghilan’nain was known for her craft and experimentation… but she went too far. She forced it to become Desire, something it was not. Through exploitation and brainwashing at her cruel hand, it became indoctrinated to her, its loyalty and devotion unchallenged and solely to her.”

She fought the urge to touch her forehead where her own markings to the Halla Mother were inked into her skin, “What did Desire become?”

The Wolf looked over its shoulder at her, “Oblivion.”

She felt as though she had been dropped into an ice bath.

“You asked me once before why I thought this spirit of Oblivion was after you,” he said, waiting for her to catch up, “I believe has become drawn to you because you bear the mark of Ghilan’nain, you bear the essence of her magic…,” he led her into a grand foyer, with mosaic portraits of wolves and elves in golden armor on either side of a large door, “…and most importantly because of your purpose. It desires what it lacks. It seeks to be whole.”

Anise gaped at him, “Me? Have _purpose_? If this demon knows something I don’t I would love to meet it and get real answers.”

He snapped at her. “You think it funny? You think you do not have purpose?”

The sharpness of his question brought her rebuttal to a halt. By the way he was glaring at her she realized it was not a rhetorical one, that he expected a response. He even positioned himself between the door and her, sitting on his haunches.

Anise took a breath, and actually considered his question.

_Purpose._

Was that something she truly had?

She reflected back on her life and became overwhelmed by responsibilities to her clan, her duty to Deshanna, to _Var’Haminan_ ; to the soldiers that returned home wounded from war, skirmishes, and ambushes; to mothers and their newborns and young children with broken bones; to the elderly losing their memories and to the sick and dying—how much they needed her, and how she cared for them to ensure they (or at least felt as if they) were healthy, healing, whole.

“I am a Healer, I use my gift of magic to save lives. That is my purpose.”

His expression softened, “Indeed you are, quite gifted, in fact.”

Anise tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear impulsively at the compliment.

“Is this what you were doing in the forest the day we met? Exploring this,” she asked hastily, gesturing to the great all around her. She peered around as she did so, taking in the grandeur of the chamber they were standing in. The high vaulted ceilings were decorated with frescos, depicting several stories across the length of the room.

“I sensed great disturbances in the Veil in this area, vibrations powerful enough to threaten my intentions. The source of which I tracked to the corrupted spirit, and ultimately to you.”

“This spirit is strong enough to disrupt your _intentions_ of destroying the world,” she questioned in disbelief.

_Perhaps you should let it run free._

“You said you were willing to listen, to hear what I have to say,” he said cautiously, “does that offer still stand?”

“Yes, it does,” she said, bracing herself, “Tell me the truth, are you truly willing to let this world perish in the birth of a new one?”

“The world you live in is the _new_ world. Thedas, in its true form is suppressed behind the Veil. The Veil I created because I had hoped by binding and entrapping harmful forces the world would have been saved, become a better place. To give my people a chance to thrive without their taint. It turns out I was wrong. By sealing the Fade, I only ruined it.”

His words hit her like a blow to the abdomen.

“How could you—“ her voice died as the realization finally sunk in. She looked back at the ceilings, around the great hall they stood in. The beautiful temple, she was seeing it through his eyes, not the crumbling ruins it was in the waking world. The way the world once was.

_Its true form._

“How can you be so certain that this world is worse than the one you locked away?”

“I woke and everything that once had been sacred had turned into abomination. The Elven Empire was _decimated, enslaved—everything I had fought so hardly against_ , repeatedly. Everything we once were…it was I that robbed you and your people the chance to fully experience life as it once was. I have tainted every stretch of this world as much as the Evanuris and their greed had. I must undo this mistake, it is unnatural.”

_Your world was conceived from his perceived mistake._

“We… are a _mistake_?”

“I did not say that. This world was born through error, and all those in it are affected by my misguided failure. The fault is not yours, it is mine. Let me exp—”

“ _Mistake_ or not,” she hissed at him, voice raising with each word she spoke, “We are _people_ , as are the humans, the Qunari, the dwarves… we are living creatures, with lives, with feelings, with dreams, with the right to live as much as you and your people do. The world has _changed_ , it has _evolved._ _You cannot just burn everything to the ground and expect another empire to rise from the ashes._ ”

He went silent.

She took a deep breath and a step back, covering her mouth with her hand. She held up a finger as if to say, ‘ _one moment’_ , and counted to ten in her mind.

_Think rationally. Try to see his perspective, the only way you’ll be able to make him understand your perspective is if you show him you can understand his._

When she was centered, she spoke.

“I promised to be open. I apologize for snapping, it was rude of me. I am ready to listen.”

He looked upon her sadly, “You have every right to be angry. To be hateful. I deserve to hear it…”

“That helps neither of us. Make me understand your reasons.”

She sat on the cool floor in front of him. Ready this time to truly hear him.

“When I first awoke, seeing the state of the world was shocking, humiliating, and terrifying. The world I had hoped to save… perished. I admit, the people of this world seemed like hollow shells of what they once were… what they once could have been. The best analogy I can offer is that I viewed the people of Thedas as they moved through their lives like Tranquil. That was until Ghilas’an—The Inquisitor,” he corrected himself, as if ashamed to say his name, “he opened my eyes to what this world truly had to offer. I had been so blind, so ignorant. I learned to trust, I confided in him…it had been so long since I had felt respected. He is an incredible force of ambition and drive. His friendship meant everything to me. I came to appreciate all that I saw, I grew close to people I never thought I would be able to…”

“If this world has worth, why take it away?”

“I am no monster like that Magister the Inquisitor defeated. His motives were selfish and self-absorbed. He wanted power and glory… things I have no desire for. This path I walk is not for me, it is one I do not intend to survive,” he paused, “your world has worth, yes. The people here deserve to live… but so do mine. Their spirits are trapped, disintegrating in a cage I have concealed them in. I can ask you the same question you ask of me, _why do my people not deserve the same chance to live?”_

Anise was at a loss for words, her brows drawn together as she processed everything he was saying.

“Your passion for your people is inspiring, it something I value admirably about you.  I share the same passion just as strongly for mine. Which is why I need to give them back everything I stole. I must atone, and therefore I must choose. It is not a decision I want to make. But there is no other way.”

In that suspended moment it all became clear to Anise.

Her actions were no different than his. She was doing the exact same thing, trying to save her people from death just as he was. If she was successful, then she was sealing his people’s fate. Forever to be forgotten and locked up as their life force drained slowly. An eternity of death.

From his perspective, the Inquisitor was the force stopping his people from having a chance at life, and he was defending his own.

 “You are just trying to save the people you love.”

“As are you, is that not why you are even willing to be open with me?”

“There must be another way… a way to coexist,” she said, mind beginning to race.

“The Veil is failing, and it will come down whether by my hand or its own volition. There will be collateral damage either way. But if all life ends, then no one wins.”

“It’s not about winning, it’s about _surviving_ ,” Anise corrected him, “What happens if the veil falls on its own?”

“Chaos. The worlds will merge violently. Magic will return, for everyone. The dwarves’ connection to their titans will be restored, Mages will become more powerful, and those without magic will suddenly manifest the power. The sudden and abrupt shift in dynamic will cause disruption throughout Thedas. Humans are quick to anger, they will lash out and destroy each other, and anyone else in their way. The Qunari despise magic, I cannot predict the extent of the backlash they will create. They will not understand, as I reshape the world to what it once was, the people of your world will fight back. All the spirits trapped in the Fade will be exposed to the harsh realities they had been protected from. Most will not survive the process, it will corrupt and twist a majority of them, further adding to chaos. That is something I cannot, and absolutely will not risk. I need to be the one to eliminate the Veil, only I can mitigate most of the damage.”

“I am lost, it sounds like you care more about the spirits than your people…”

“The two are not so different as you would think. This is where my explanation ends, and showing you begins.”

The chamber dissolved, stone melting into the floor only to regrow into something entirely new around her. The Fade morphed into a large antechamber with a large pool springing up in front of her where she sat. Its glassy surface was pristine, clear, and perfectly still. A figure materialized beside her, Anise’s eyes widened as she stared at a painfully beautiful elven woman adorned in breathtaking fabrics and glittering jewelry.

“What am I watching?” Anise remarked as the towering woman stepped to edge of the pool, igniting runes around its edge. The surface began to glow an iridescent green, a swirling shimmer gliding beneath its unmarked surface.

“My birth.”

“Birth?” Anise gasped quietly, gaze glued to the strange pool where the tall elven woman was looming.

A shiver washed over her, causing her skin to prickle.

“When Mythal asked me to take physical form, I did not truly understand the depths of the consequences…”

 _That’s Mythal_.

Anise looked upon the beautiful woman, her hair was sleek and as dark as obsidian. Her skin was a beautiful ivory, the rich hue of her purple robes only amplified the sheer awe Anise felt as she stared at the Goddess.

Mythal summoned magic that caused her hands to glow a bright blue. The spell dripped from her fingertips and landed in the pool before her, causing iridescent ripples to break its smooth surface. The water contorted as a spirit rose from its depths. Its emerald essence shaped vaguely into the form of an elven man.

“The process shocked me…having physical form… broadening a range of emotions into my nature… I became something more.”

The water suddenly shot up around the spirit, encasing it in a whirlpool that burned like a kaleidoscope on fire. But, almost as soon as the colors had erupted, they were extinguished, consumed by blackness that drained even the light from the chamber. Mythal took a few hurried steps backward, away from the dark water spiraling before her. Anise squinted, and swore she saw the faint green silhouette of the spirit twist and contort, growing in size. The unmistakable outline of horns and claws flashed through the black water, _and the eyes._

The spiraling column burst, and the water faded back to its clear state, leaving a man she recognized standing in its wake. Drops of water ran down his bare skin as he raised a hand into the air, studying the way his knuckles bent and fingers flexed. Anise gasped when the his piercing blue eyes shifted directly at her. It took her a delayed moment, but she realized it wasn’t truly her he was looking at, but Mythal who was standing where she was.

The Goddess slowly stepped forward, away from Anise and approached the man in the pool.

“ _Wisdom_?” she asked.

 “ _Pride_ ,” he responded, the elven dripping fluidly off his tongue.

“Solas,” Anise echoed.

She turned to look at the real Solas but when she looked upon him he was no longer a wolf. She saw _him_. A man in simple robes, with sorrow etched into every feature on his face as he held them suspended in that memory.

The noise she made startled him, and he quickly took a few steps back to create space between them as he broken the dream, the fade rearranging itself back into the Temple they had first entered. Silence fell between them as neither said a word, just staring. Solas kept his hands loosely clasped in front of him, waiting for her to speak.

“You were a spirit,” she said she had found her voice, her mind connecting the dots between his actions, his words, the stories her brother wrote home, everything clicking into place.

 “Many millennia ago, yes. I was. Wisdom was once something I sought to be, to bestow knowledge, to guide those lost… but taking form altered my nature. It is hard for spirits who take physical form to keep their nature unaltered” he said, shifting his weight, “my transformation was difficult, as you saw. I became so much more than what I once was… I tried to hold on to my virtue, but… being corporeal means encompassing everything, not just one value. The shock of it… well.  A person cannot change their nature by simply wishing.”

“So when you speak of your people… you mean the spirits _and_ the elves that descended from them.”

Her knees went weak, and the ground was suddenly looking like a very appealing place to lie down.

“Yes. But this is just the beginning of my story. There is much more I would like to show you, but I sense you are a bit… overwhelmed.”

Anise slowly nodded, heart heavy in her chest at the implications of what she just learned.

“There must be a way to protect both of our worlds.”

_There has to be a way._

Solas shook his head hopelessly and took a tentative step towards her, when she showed no aversion he took another, “I have found no alternatives, no matter how hard I searched no other way revealed itself to me.”

 “You cannot condemn the people of this world to die, just as we cannot condemn yours.”

“I experience no pleasure the course of action I must take.”

“I can tell, but that’s not a good enough answer,” she said, as she began to pace before him fearing if she did not move her legs might give out, “what if… what… what would happen if you did the opposite?”

He looked at her skeptically.

“I’m just exploring alternatives you probably thought were too ridiculous to even give thought to.”

“The opposite… meaning separate the two realms instead of merging?” he said cautiously, following her movements with his eyes.

“Would that even be possible?”

“What you are asking, if it were even possible, would have irrevocable effects on both realms, the consequences of that action permanent.”

“What kinds of consequences are we talking about?”

His expression turned pensive and somber as he took a moment to contemplate.

“The Fade interacts and is influenced by the physical world. If I were to separate it entirely… create a seal instead of a veil… it has the potential to eradicate magic entirely from your world,” his face paled, “I couldn’t possibly take that away… not after everything else I have done.”

“And what of the Fade?”

“It would evolve, become its own…” he trailed off, not quite looking at her anymore.

“Would it be safe? Think about it Solas, this is lives versus the ability to use magic we are talking about. If it will save mass amounts of lives…is it not worth the risk?”

He turned his gaze back to her, eyes now sharp and alert. “And if I somehow found a way to separate the two realms, what would happen to your purpose? You would lose your magic, your ability to heal.”

The realization struck her hard in the chest causing her steps to come to a faltering stop.

_You would lose the only thing that gives you a sense of identity._

 “ _Oh_ , oh no…”

“You must see now, there is no alternative.”

“No magic everyone lives, magic exists and many will suffer. Who are you to decide the fate of Thedas?”

“Because I caused it.”

“Alone?”

“Yes, it is my burden to bear, my error to deal with the consequences.”

Her mind was made up before he even finished his sentence.

“No,” she walked right up to him, “no, it’s not yours alone. Not anymore.”

She was in too deep now to not be part of the solution.

“I will help you find a way. There _must_ be a way,” she declared, her voice echoing throughout the hall.

A somber expression befell his face.

In a soft voice he said, “I would cherish the chance to be proven wrong, but this… this is— “

Anise placed a gentle finger over his lips, “I’ll prove it to you.”

“I wish you could,” he said against her fingertips, and smiling sadly, he reached up to place his hand over hers.

“ _Wake up_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Couple notes! 
> 
> -I am going to be updating this weekly! (I'm setting a hard deadline! yay!) It will update on Sunday afternoons (EST). I'm trying to work ahead of myself to keep a schedule going. I'm already 1000+ words into Chapter 8! 
> 
> -I got rid of the chapter titles because I didn't quite like them. They are just going to be numbers now.
> 
> -I incorporated my headcanon that Solas was once a spirit of wisdom who took form when Mythal asked him to (based off Cole's voice lines in Trespasser), but corrupted into Pride because the transformation shocked him, and made him "Hot headed and cocky" etc etc. The how he took form and why he took form I am entirely making up (and don't actually think is how it happened) for the plot of this particular story. So that's where (to me) it gets canon divergent.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Thank you for reading <3 3


	8. Chapter 8

Her face was damp when she touched her cheek, wiping away swollen drops that had leaked as she slept. The cot groaned quietly beneath her as she propped herself into a sitting position to face Solas lying on the bed beside hers. He was already awake. She composed herself, making sure she was centered before opening her mouth to speak.

“I am at a loss for words,” she said, folding her hands gently in her lap, “you have given me much to think about… I will need time to fully wrap myself around all this.”

“Don’t we all.”

Half-tempted to roll her eyes, Anise sighed, “World shattering revelations aside, I think our first priority should be you making a full recovery. Your bones will need tending, as well as your muscles. They are going to atrophy if we do not begin the rehabilitation process soon.”

“Rehabilitating? No, I will be on my feet in a day or so.” To prove his point, he attempted to swing his legs off the side of the cot. It ended with a cry of pain and Anise’s hands catching his shoulders as he sagged into her, and not the floor.

“You stubborn Wolf. You may not be mortal, but you are vulnerable.”

 His chuckle turned into a groan that she felt flutter across her neck when she eased him back onto the cot. “We will take it slow. Let’s start with regaining some strength, are you hungry yet?”

“Slightly,” he said, his fingers yet lingering on her arm for balance, trailing over her skin as she pulled away, “I suppose I should try.”

“You most definitely should,” she straightened to get a good look at him, “when was the last time you had a hot meal?”

He stared back at her blankly. “I do not need as much food as you would think, so the answer I am about to give may alarm you.”

At that, Anise did roll her eyes and made a soft, exasperated noise. “The more things you share with me, the more I am amazed that you somehow managed to survive the last five thousand years.”

“Actually, closer to eight.”

Apparently she was more comfortable with the Wolf than she realized, for she playfully squeezed his nose, earning her a surprised swat to her hand and a glare. She bit the inside of her cheek to prevent herself from laughing.

_You should not have your guard down with him like this._

“You showed me part of your world…” she started to say, ignoring that little reprimanding tug of her conscience, “now I am going to show you part of mine.” Her mouth broke into the smallest of smiles at his confused yet analyzing look.

“A proper Dalish welcome if you will, seeing as you have a lot to get accustomed to _Darrian_ , might as well start with a meal.”

* * *

 

Fresh summer air washed over her face as she stepped out of Var’Haminan, clearing her mind of the past few hours and all of the thoughts and emotions she was trying to process. A break away from the Wolf would do her well, she decided. She was a little wary of how comfortable she was becoming around him, how easy it was for her catch her guard slipping. He was intelligent and intriguing with a slight charm about him that pulled her in closer, wanting to learn more about him. Her perception of him had been shaped by his flaws, but that had been before she actually met him, got to understand him. Perhaps if fate had been kinder and dealt him a fairer hand, in another world, they could have been true friends.

Anise shook her head sharply as she passed the Keeper’s aravel. No, just because she understood his logic did not mean she could overlook the consequences of his actions.

_If he is to be redeemed, he is going to have to want to change…but how do you make a lone wolf loyal?_

_Prove to him you are his equal._

The enticing smell of sweet bread overwhelmed her senses when she stepped into the clan bakery, a relatively new venture in the encampment that had grown quite popular. It was modeled after the small fancy bakeries that were found in Wycome City, run by an elderly woman by the name of Keili and her adolescent granddaughter. There were two baskets already prepared and waiting atop the service table.

“Two,” Anise said, reaching out to grab the handle of the first basket while curiously inspecting the second, “Is this your way of making up to your wife?”

“No,” a voice answered from the door behind the counter.

“Does this mean you still won’t visit her?”

“Is she still crazy?”

Anise sighed. “If you mean, is she still having memory loss? Then yes.”

“Then yes,” the voice sassily echoed.

A short elven woman with greying curls pushed her way through the door with a tray of fresh petite cakes. A smear of flour ran across the left side of her forehead.

A stubborn, quick tempered “old bat” she readily self-proclaimed to anyone she met, Keili was tough to please with a low tolerance for nonsense, making it difficult for her to engage in pleasantries with the bakery attendees. Hence the reason her granddaughter was often found out front, taking orders, dealing with sales, otherwise the “face” of the place. But if caught in a rare sociable mood, Keili would tell the best stories about her of her grand adventures she had her youth. There was even a rumor—one Keili made no effort to deny or confirm—that she had been an assassin in her past life before marrying into Clan Lavellan, and becoming a baker. When Anise was little, she often would ask Keili about her first life, but all Keili would ever give Anise was a wink and a gentle pat on the butt to scoot her out the door with pastry in hand.  Anise didn’t have a clue as to why Keili developed a soft spot for her, but she was glad. Keili confided in seldom few, just as she did.

“That extra is for you,” Keili said, gingerly unloading the hot cakes to cool on a rack next to the counter, “heard about the man you found in the woods.”

Anise shifted the basket her had already picked up to set on her hip, and reached for the second “Oh please not you too.”

“You want my honest opinion?”

Anise nodded.

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Keili said, reaching into the apron she was wearing and tossed her a pouch Anise almost didn’t catch, “you’re too independent. But if you want me to go on believing you are ready to ‘settle down’, I’ll play along.” She emphasized the ‘settle down’ with an exaggerated voice. “Have a hunch he has a sweet tooth, those are fresh elderberries—picked this morn, they’ll spread nicely on the cakes when they’re hot.”

“Keili, I can’t just accep—“

“Your coin is no good here, don’t make me get my broom and chase you out.”

Anise let a soft laugh escape, “You haven’t threatened me with a broom in years.”

Keili glanced over in her direction, a glint of mischief in her eyes, “You know I am good on my word.”

Anise took a few slow steps back, dodging a dried piece of bread lobbed her way.

It had taken a few months to wear Keili down after her wife’s accident to send gift baskets to her, let alone come around and visit at the infirmary. Keili held grudges like no other, even when they cost her heartache. Braea’s head injury at her age caused permanent damage, memory loss of the last twenty years or so, meaning she forgot the last portion of their life together including the birth of their granddaughter whom they adopted together when Keili’s daughter died. Anise and Deshanna were trying their best to develop a treatment to aid in her memory recall, but so far they had been unsuccessful. It was still a sore spot, and Anise was the only one who could even broach the subject with the elderly baker, everyone else who asked was blatantly ignored.

_She won’t stay mad forever, she loves Braea too much to let her anger burn that bridge._

“Thank you Hahren,” she called out, departing with two baskets full of fresh pastries and other assorted baked goods to return to her own complicated love affair waiting for her in the infirmary.

* * *

 

_You aren’t supposed to actually enjoy being in his company._

She pushed the thought down deep, letting it fade out existence as she shifted her weight on Solas’ cot, edging a little bit closer to him. Keili’s hunch had been spot on. The way his eyes lit up at the sight of the hotcakes and berries seemed worth all the hardship she had been putting up with. How could a man with such a reputation look so innocent? Anise cocked her head and returned the grateful smile he was offering tenderly. The small talk they shared over breakfast wasn’t quite small talk. She let him see a little more of herself, telling him stories of when she was younger and the trouble she would get herself into while being unsupervised. Like the time she got herself stuck in a tree and was too afraid to jump down. She went missing for almost an entire night. It was day break when a scout finally found her in those woods, shivering and ashamed. His laugh harmonized with her own, a simple echoed melody.

Thinking of Keili, and the stories she would tell Anise to cheer her up inspired her. Perhaps if she wore him down the same way she did with Kei, he would warm up faster to her. She didn’t know what made her more nervous, the Dread Wolf knowing her past, or the fact she _wanted_ him to know her.

“We need to get our story on the same page,” said Anise, changing the subject from silly childhood misadventures to the present one she was getting herself into now.

“Our story?”

“Yes, you know… _us_ ,” she emphasized with a small gesture between the two of them on the cot.

He smirked, reclining against his pillow. “Well, this was your idea. Where do you want us to start?”

Anise considered for a moment. “How old are you, exactly?”

“I have lived for millennia, I have witnessed the rise and fall of—“

“Short answer please,” Anise interrupted, “because I very well can’t go about introducing you as my ancient one-thousand-year-old partner. You can recount to me all your lifetimes in the Fade at night but right now, we need to get our life together in the daylight figured out.”

He huffed, clearly not enjoying being cut off.

“How old did you say you were when you were with the Inquisition?”

“Forty-two.”

“Okay, that definitely fits the bill for my apparent thing for ‘older men’,” Anise muttered, reiterating what Atiha had teased her for.

“I don’t know if I want to ask… how old are you?”

“I just recently celebrated by twenty-fifth name day last month.”

“Oh, you are…” he said simply, color rising in his cheeks as he continued to gaze at her. She could feel the tension spike, the reality of how old he was in comparison to her mere twenty-five years sinking in. He cleared his throat and changed the subject, “For how long have we meeting up exactly?”

“I think I told Deshanna a few months… so maybe about four, or five? Does that sound reasonable?”

“My perspective on the relativity of relationships is much different than yours, I assure you.”

Anise let out a nervous chuckle, tucking a flyaway strand of hair behind her ear, “Five months would make the relationship still relatively new, but long enough to be considered steady...to someone in this age.”

“Five it is. What have we been doing the last five months?”

Anise stared at him. He was truly a stranger and yet… she felt this.. connection. She could not deny it, but did not want to acknowledge it all the same. “We’ve been meeting up at night in secret, I can probably convince Deshanna some of the prolonged hunting trips I took were actually trips to visit you in the city…”

“That’s right, you mentioned to me previously that I was a merchant, what am I selling?”

“I… actually hadn’t thought that far ahead yet. What are you good at?”

He considered her a moment and then responded, “I used to paint.”

“Hmm, a merchant who sells paintings or works on commissions?”

“Perhaps both, maybe I’m in between commissions and that would explain my lack of wares?”

“Or that you were ambushed in the woods and they were stolen.”

He nodded. “Good point.”

“Okay so you are a merchant painter who lives in the city. We’ve been seeing each other for five months.”

“What do couples who have been together for this long talk about in your clan?”

Anise rolled her eyes, “To be completely honest with you, when they will have their bonding ceremony and… children.”

He looked shocked. “So soon?”

“Unfortunately,” Anise fidgeted, “usually our bondmates are pre-arranged for us during childhood. Once we receive our vallaslin, it becomes acceptable to start the relationship. So you grow to know your bondmate throughout life. Of course, just because bonds were arranged did not stop people from having lovers before they committed to their bondmate. It’s as strange a custom as one might think.”

“If relationships are prearranged, then how did you convince your clan that we are lovers? Where is your bondmate?”

Her chest ached at his prying question. Her clan already knew what happened to with her arranged mate… and she would rather not relive that story.

“It’s… a long story,” said Anise, “to make it short, it didn’t work out. That’s all you need to know.” She shifted uncomfortably on his cot, “So, do you have any?” Anise quickly deflected, wanting to get the attention off her and things better left unsaid.

“Have any?”

“ _Children_.”

“No, but wouldn’t you be curious to know if I already have a partner?”

“Oh,” her mouth gaped slightly at her own obliviousness in not taking into consideration that the Dread Wolf might already have a mate, “… do you?”

“No, I do not,” he smiled, “it has been, ah, a long time since I have courted. And I have no children.”

“None? You are thousands of years old, and you’ve never... even thought of having children?”

The smile faded as fast as it had come, “Children were never something I had envisioned for myself,” he sighed, shoulders slumping as the spark of energy left his body, “It’s… a _long story.”_

Curiosity began to bubble up within her. This strange man who has essentially lived forever has lifetimes of experience, almost unfathomable to fully understand. Was it possible…?

“Have you ever taken a lover?”

The words left her before she could censor herself.

He looked taken aback, “I said _it had been a long time_ , not _that I had never_.”

_What are you thinking? Of course he has exponentially more experience than you._

She cringed, “Sorry, that was a dumb question, you’re _ancient_ ,” she said, rubbing her cheek with her right hand, shaking her head at the inappropriateness of it all, letting the flyaway strands fall back across her cheek.

“Not dumb, I’ve found it is good to be honest with your partners about your history.” He returned her mirth with a breathless laugh, “We are all young once.”

She froze as he moved forward to cup her face, “Though for you, life has just begun. You have so much to look forward to,” brushing his thumb across her lower lip. His other hand pushed the hair that had fallen back with a gentle caress. Her body betrayed her common sense as she leaned into his touch. The expression on his face changed subtly, becoming softer, eyes growing wide as he studied her face.

“I could not resist, forgive me but you…,” the last bit of breath swiftly left her lungs with his words as his fingers curled under her jaw, “you are so—“

The hesitation in his breath was tangible, the subtle intake of care rushing past her parted mouth as he leaned in. She did not know what to say, but she knew what she wanted to do.

She wanted…

_You absolutely cannot._

Clenching the fingers in her lap, she pulled away from his soft touch. She wrung out the stiffness building in her knuckles as she recognized her heart betraying her mind. 

“Gods, he’s awake!”

Anise abruptly split away from Solas as if she had been hit with a jolt of lightning. Her hand went flying to her chest to contain her heart she had not quite been aware was pounding. Tah’riel stood in the entry way, with Atiha excitedly at his heels.

“Tah’ri—I, I didn’t hear you enter,” Anise managed, meeting the young merchant’s shocked stare. His eyes flicked over Solas judgingly before glancing back to hers..

 “We were just dropping—I mean stopping—by to leave another bundle of dawn lotus, in case you needed it,” he stammered, hastily following Atiha who rushed past him to Solas’ bedside.

_Mythal have Mercy._

“I almost didn’t believe you existed,” Atiha said, eyes wide with joy. She quickly sat beside Anise on the cot, extending her hand over Anise’s lap to the Wolf. “It is so wonderful to see you awake!”

Solas seemed a touch surprised at Atiha’s invasion of space, but made a smooth recovery by shaking her hand, trapping Anise between the two.

“Beg pardon, who might you be?”

“Oh! Sorry, how rude of me. I’m Atiha, Anise’s bondsister. It’s just I have been hearing a lot about you over the past two days, I’m getting a little hasty. When I heard the news I thought Deshanna was trying to trick me,” Atiha cheerfully continued on, “Anise _courting_? I thought for sure she would never court anyone again—

“Atiha where is Enasali?” Anise spoke over her, practically jumping off the cot to grab the outstretched bundle of dawn lotus roughly out of Tah’riel’s hands. He flinched.

“Deshanna volunteered to give me a break so I could get some fresh air. I’ve been cooped up in my aravel nearly as much as you’ve been cooped up in here.”

“Except you don’t have a choice, Anise does,” Tahriel stated bitterly.

Solas shifted his attention back to him.

 “ _Darrian_ , is my long time childhood friend, Tah’riel. _He is a merchant too_ ,” Anise explained before Tah’riel could say anything else.

 “A merchant.” The knowing look Tah’riel gave caused a flare of guilt to rise her throat but she swallowed it.

“Yes, an artist from the city.” She stared right back at him.

“Oh an artist? How romantic,” Atiha cooed.

A rush of heat flooded Anise’s cheeks. “Excuse me a moment.”

She was already pulling apart the bundle of dawn lotus before she even reached the stock shelf. The tension in the room was thick, near smothering. Vaguely, she could hear Atiha asking Solas a thousand questions about his artwork, and Solas patiently answering all of her questions. Tah’riel was thankfully silent during the whole exchange. Her fingers found themselves reaching for a pot and stripping the lotus petals for a fresh brew of antidote to stall for time as she tried to figure out how to get rid the two before her heart exploded.

 “I was on my way back into the area when I was ambushed by bandits. If Anise had not been waiting for me, I might not have been found.”

Solas accepted the steaming brew she offered with a polite nod as she returned to his side. The urge to bolt out of the room, to run as fast as her legs would take her away, grew stronger and stronger each second Tah’riel’s disbelieving glare lingered on her.

 “She will have you recovered and walking in no time,” said Atiha, “you are in the best hands, I swear by Sylaise.”

“I know I am.” Solas gently reached for her hand, entwining his fingers with hers. She gave him deliberate squeeze of gratitude.

_Might as well lay it on thick._

“What are your plans for this evening?”

Anise glanced down at Solas and noticed the crimson stains beginning to seep through the bandages visible on his shoulder.

“Well, now that he is conscious and moving, he should be properly cleaned. I was going to see if he had enough strength for a bath later.”

Solas choked on the brew.

“I bet that will feel nice, especially since it’s been so humid lately.” Atiha stood and straightened her skirt. “If you can spare a moment—and if you are feeling up for it that is Darrian,” she said, inclining her head towards him, “I’d love for you to stop by. Perhaps if we are lucky, the escort will arrive on time and your parents will be able join too.”

It was Anise’s turn to choke.

“What.”

“Did word not reach you yet? The political convoy should be returning from Wycome late this afternoon.”

“I knew it would be soon, but.. not… so soon?”

“Your mother is going to want to hear _everything_.”

“Wonderful.”

Anise shot a look at Tah’riel who was wearing a reluctant expression of a ‘ _you’re screwed’_.

“Well, we will leave you to your caretaking, enjoy your bath! Atiha announced, sensing the awkward shift in the conversation. She tugged on Tah’riel’s sleeve, yanking him towards the exit, “come on Tah’ri, you _promised_ to help me prepare!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't fucking stick to deadlines so this is just going to update sporadically. sorry my dudes. 
> 
> I've been staring at this chapter for about a month. it's a slow one and I'm not exactly happy with it, I've been distracted with wanting to write future chapters that are more exciting. I apologize for the sub par chapter


	9. Chapter 9

Getting him out of bed and into the bathing chamber was a feat. Not only did he struggle to try to walk on his own, he tripped Anise at least twice on accident which caused her to lurch into a couple cots on their way. 

She eased him onto a stool beside the empty wash basin in the dimly lit room, biting her lip as he winced getting into a comfortable sitting position. He was in more pain than he was letting on. Stubborn wolf. The recovery process for damaged bones was an ordeal enough but given the extent of his injuries on top of his fractures… Anise stifled a shudder just thinking about it. 

It occurred to her, as she pulled away, that she still had not confronted him about how he had received those wounds… or who he was running from. He had claimed he was tracking the spirit… but Oblivion had claws and fangs, not arrows dipped in  _ wyvern  _ venom. 

_ He’s not telling you everything. _

Her heart ached, there was no other way of explaining the feeling that was lodged in her chest at the passing thought. She recognized the pain for what it was--he still did not trust her enough to tell her the truth, the whole truth, of what he was facing. She was still being kept in the dark. A feeling she was all too unpleasantly familiar with. Her brothers,  parents, even Deshanna, would withhold information from her under the guise of “protecting her”. She was sick of being viewed as too young to handle the truth. That ache grew into a burn, but before it could scorch her she took a deep breath and let logic in.

_ He barely knows you… and you barely know him. How do you expect him to trust you if you don’t even fully trust him? _

She did not have time on her side, but she had compassion. Trust was earned, not given. 

So she would earn it.

Pressing her palm against the bottom of the tub, she let loose a tiny pulse of mana. It ignited a rune that glowed softly beneath her fingertips. Heated water began to fill it, flowing over her hand and washing away a bit of her frustration at her predicament. When the temperature reached just right, she removed her hand and wiped it on her pants. She turned around, anger ebbing away as she gazed at him leaning slightly to the side on the stool where she left him. Their eyes met, and her heart jumped up into her throat.

_ You have to view him like he is just another patient, he gets no special treatment.  _

Her eyes never left his while returning to his side. And his continued to watch her as she removed the bandages from his upper body with dainty precision. She broke their connection to inspect his wounds beneath for a moment.

“You are healing quite nicely.”

“My body is in caring hands.”

She pursed her lips to prevent herself from smiling as she discarded the soiled cloth and tried not to blush. 

“Hush.”

She escorted him over to the-now-filled tub, and let him lean against its metal frame. The last thing left to remove was his breeches. As her hands reached for his waistline and he made a strangled sort of noise and grabbed her wrists. Glancing up at him with brows raised, she was surprised to find a subtle blush creeping across his cheeks.

“I, ah—,” he cleared his throat, “can handle the rest of this myself.”

“You can’t even bend over enough to touch your knees,” Anise teased over his mumbled remark, “I’ve been a healer for over ten years. You aren’t the first naked man I’ve seen and had to wash, and you surely won’t be last.” The color of his face flushed a deeper pink. “And we ‘allegedly’ have done this before according to our cover story.” Picking up on his embarrassment, she tucked her hands behind her back. “But if you are so stubborn as to think you can get yourself out of those pants and into that tub on your own, be my guest,” she said, with a slight inclination of her head towards the tub.

His stubbornness knew no bounds, apparently. And proved her partially wrong. He was able to get himself out the last of his garments, but it wasn’t easy. He reached out to her for balance when he nearly lost it.  Leaning into him was almost intrinsic. She could feel his breath on her cheek as she steadied him,  his fingers winding around her arms for balance. His forehead brushed her cheek in passing sending a shiver down her spine. 

She was afraid to look him in the eyes, afraid of what she might find in them. She needed to get him in before she did something incredibly stupid. She chose that moment to guide him into the tub, taking note of the grimace that took over his face as they moved his injured leg into the water. As he sunk into the water it washed away the painful expression and replaced it with one of exhaustion.

“You acted well back there,” she said softly to make conversation, for fear if she did not speak her mouth might do something else she would regret. 

His eyes, now closed, crinkled as a small smile formed on his lips. “I am not as helpless as I appear.”

“No,” with a flick of her hand she summoned the stool over and sat, “apparently not.”

“Am I to meet your parents,” he asked, cracking an eye open. 

“Inevitably.”

He smirked. “And what are they going to think of an outsider whisking their daughter away from her bed until daybreak?”

Anise shifted on the stool. “They will be surprised, but happy.” She ran a finger over the seam on her arm wrappings. “I mean, they will no doubt have their concerns and curiosity… but after their initial shock of the circumstances, they will quickly take to liking you.”

She averted her gaze, catching herself admiring his figure--his skin pulled taut over muscles that glided beneath the water’s surface as he washed himself.

“When, do you think?”

“I am going to explain everything to them tonight over dinner, and hopefully convince them to give you a few days before invading and trying to feed you.”

He paused,“feed me?”

“Don’t laugh,” she said sternly, leaning on the side of the tub and letting her fingers break the surface tension of the water, sending small ripples towards him. “But, my father likes to bake pie. And when I say ‘like’, I mean he is actually obsessed with it but doesn’t get to bake often, so when he returns home he goes on these baking sprees. Keili wants to kill him because he gives pie away for free. He will most likely try to force feed you at least three slices.”

She tried to keep a straight face but couldn’t keep her composure at his surprise. Their laughter echoed in the chamber, sending small flutterings to beat within her chest. 

_ Another little small piece of your life given freely. How much are you willing to give him? _

“Will you tell me more about your parents?”

Anise bit the inside of her lip.

She didn’t know how much Solas knew of Ghilas’an’s family, besides Eltheran. Did Ghilas’an mention their mother and father? Did Ghilas’an ever speak of her at all? She had not given thought on that… at all. Solas didn’t seem to have recognize her name, which made her realize Ghilas’an must have never mentioned it. She had to resist the temptation to give into self-pity. It didn’t matter he must not have talked about her, it was giving her the perfect opportunity to get close to Fen’Harel. 

_ But when he finds out… what will the consequences be? You cannot keep this secret forever. _

Anise leaned in close, hovering slightly over the water and let a coy smile slip across her face. 

“Nope,” she teased, “my lips are sealed.” 

* * *

Meals among Dalish families were usually loud and bustling, since generally everyone ate around the same time other clanmates would pop in and out of different aravels to say hello, or steal a bite of food.. Anise prefered to eat and observe the on-going interactions than actually participate in them. Her father was as animated as ever, recounting the latest scandals and political gossip from city to the incoming stream of visitors coming to see him since his return.. Atiha was nursing Enasali and laughing at her father’s impressions of the political figureheads from Wycome, while Anise’s mother politely inquired about Tah’riel’s latest trade deals.  Anise pushed around the last few bits of food on her plate, biding her time until the conversation would eventually turn on her. 

“Enough about the Viscount’s affair, there is someone else’s affair I am much more interested in.”

Atiha smacked Anise’s father on the arm. “ _ Sylvorn _ ! It’s not an affair, they are courting!”

Anise’s stomach twisted. 

“Ow, okay okay,” he said lightheartedly, rubbing his arm in a dramatic manner.

“Atiha, we aren’t… exactly,” Anise pushed her plate from her place, “we--”

“Ani, the way you were fawning over him--”

“I was not fawning--”

“Fawning?” Sylvorn joined in.

Atiha continued as if she wasn’t interrupted, “with that doe eyed look on your fa--”

“Wait, my Anise? Doe eyed?”

“I did  _ not _ have doe eyes,” Anise protested, heat rising to her cheeks in sync with her desire to run from the room, “You are making me out to sound like some lovesick fool--”

“I don’t know Anise, you seemed quite smitten with Darrian,” Tah’riel mumbled before taking a sip of ale and avoided her eye contact.

The pressure was nearly unbearable.

“Forever a defensive cynic, aren’t we my dear,” Sylvorn said, casting Anise a tender yet teasing look.

“Not for too much longer. Darrian also appears to return the affection,” Atiha added, “he is… quite unique. But I think it’s fitting for her.” Atiha glanced at Anise. “For you.” 

“So, give us the exclusive story,” her father prompted, dropping his chin into his palm. 

Tah’riel mimicked Sylvorn’s posture. “Yes, why don’t you tell them how you met?” 

“Stop interrogating the woman,” said Shiara as she stood abruptly from the table, “It has been a while since I have paid my respects to the temple. Anise, will you walk with me?”

“Of course.” Anise had to restrain herself from leaping from the table at her mother’s offering. 

The echos of dismay faded as Anise followed her mother out in the cool evening. Just being out in the breeze took a heavy weight off her shoulders. She let all the air rush out of her lungs in a refreshing exhale. Her mother simply smiled understandingly at her and started off towards the temple in silence.

She was grateful Shiara sensed her discomfort. Her mother would understand more with fewer words being exchanged, which allowed Anise to relax the slightest bit. Her parents were quite opposite in personality, her father being charismatic and animated while her mother was more stoic and observant. Anise looked more like her father than her mother though, inheriting his jawline, eyes, and hair color. Her mother had golden brown hair that fell just beneath her shoulders and was often found braided around her head in a warrior’s bun. But tonight, it fell free and was billowing in the wind as they wandered closer to the temple. Anise studied the way her mother’s broad shoulders moved as she walked, scars from duels of the past were peeking out from the sleeveless tunic she was wearing. She could still remember how they felt from when she was little and would run her fingers over the scar tissue, asking to be told the stories behind each one. 

And her mother would. Reality was refreshing.

Shiara slowed her pace as they approached the Temple steps, pausing to allow Anise to fall in place beside her before ascending. The Temple was quite a sight to behold. Once all the necessities had been built when they first established their permanent settlement, the Clan turned to creating a holy ground. The resulting Temple was truly a masterpiece, glossy marble was commissioned by the Inquisitor from Orlais to construct handcrafted statues of all the Gods in their glory.

Save for Fen’Harel of course, whose statues remained on the outskirts of camp and vandalized.

Upon entering the hallowed hall, flames ignited in the enchanted lanterns hanging from the ceiling. Their flickering lights cast dim shadows behind each of the beautiful statues that lined the hall, leading to the altar where Elgar’nan and Mythal stood. 

Anise stopped in front of Ghilan’nain, her chosen to pay her respects, as her mother paused before Falon’din to do the same. She stared into the stone face of Ghilan’nain and a wave of unease rushed through her veins. Images of Oblivion flooded her mind, and all the horrors this Goddess must have inflicted upon that poor spirit to twist its nature so vilely. 

As a child, she had always revered Ghilan’nain as a guiding figure, someone to emulate as she matured into womanhood. But the appeal began to fade she aged. Her faith slowly withered, though never did she lose it entirely. 

Her thoughts wandered to the God in the infirmary waiting for her return and t he realization hit her without warning. As if her brain had just connected all the pieces of information that had been presented to her over the last few days. 

_ Ghilan’nain is  _ real _ , and all the others too...and not in the omnipotent ‘higher power’ manner you have been lead to believe your entire life.  They breathe, eat, speak, and bleed… like Fen’Harel.  _

It was all a little suffocating to think about all at once.

 

“I am proud of you."  Shiara’s voice startled Anise out of her thoughts.

“Proud?” Anise questioned, turning away from the watchful eyes of Ghilan’nain to the compassionate ones of her mother. 

“I know it has been… difficult for you since…,” her mother trailed off.

Anise crossed her arms, knowing where the conversation was inevitably headed. She was done dancing around the subject. “How is Viralas?”

Surprise flit across Shiara’s face. Anise had not spoken her ex bondmate's name aloud since their separation two years ago.

“He… is in good health. He will be taking over as Keeper for Clan Mahariel next spring.”

“And his mate? Everything is…”

“She is well."

Anise bit her lip. “And their child?"

"He just celebrated his first name day a few weeks ago."

"Wonderful.”

Anise turned on her heel, taking off towards the looming All-Mother waiting for her at the end of the grand hall.

“Anise, I did not mean to bring him up," Shiara said, calling after her.

“Everyone assumes that I am still heartbroken over this man,” snapped Anise as she turned round again to face her mother, “Viralas leaving me was the _least_ of my heartache.” Her words echoed loudly in the temple hall.

Shiara’s steps faltered.  “Then… what happened to cause you so much sadness Ani?”

_ You will not feel guilt. _

Anise’s hands fell from her arms and ghosted over her abdomen before falling at her sides.

“I failed. That is what happened.”

“Anise… _were you_ _ pregnant _ ?”

“I wasn’t happy in that relationship contrary to what everyone believed… but when I missed my monthly cycle… it changed my outlook. I was going to be a mother. And being a mother appealed to me way more than any position of power. I told no one but Viralas, it was to be our secret since we had not officially bonded before the clan. But… something went wrong. I don’t know what, or… or how… it just,” Anise’s voice caught in her throat, “it just did not work out. And he left.”

Shiara closed the gap between them pulled Anise into a fierce hug. “Miscarrying was not your fault,” she whispered.

“I know,” Anise muttered into her mother’s hair, “but he blamed me for it. I felt like I failed. I  _ hated _ him.”

Shiara squeezed her and the tension bled from her shoulders.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I was ashamed. It was my--"

_Burden to bear. You sound like the Dread Wolf._

"--mine to work through. I needed to do it on my own time. I should have told you sooner. I... just didn't know how."

Shirara nodded sadly. “I will not speak of him again, and I will discreetly make sure others do not bother you further on this.”

"Thank you," Anise pulled away, untangling herself from her mother and quickly wiped her damp cheeks. “I have grieved, and I have forgiven but not forgotten. Like I said, I wasn’t exactly happy in that relationship anyway before the pregnancy. I’ve moved on.”

"This new relationship," Shiara said slowly, "... it is more serious than you want us to believe, isn’t it... and you are afraid.”

Anise couldn't help but let a nervous laugh escape. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I don’t think  _ love _ is something I am meant for.”

“I never said love.”

Anise’s heart skipped a beat.  “Mother, may I pray alone?”

“Of course Ani,” she responded sensing her shift. Shiara leaned in to give a quick kiss on her temple. “The Gods will place your soulmate in your path,” she said pulling away as Anise began to kneel, “perhaps they already have.”

She bowed her head in mock prayer until she heard her mother’s footfalls completely cease to echo.  Peering up, it seemed like the stone goddess was staring down upon her, judging and silent.

"Don't look at me like that."

“You trusted Fen’Harel,” Anise said aloud to the Goddess, “you trusted him, befriended him…cared for him… and you were betrayed.” She stood and wrapped her arms around herself, “Am I to befall the same fate? I want to trust him…I want to care for him… I want to…” 

She stopped herself before words she did not mean could tumble from her traitorous lips as Mythal continued to judge her.

 

_ I do not love him. I don’t even know him. _

 

“But at what cost?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *drops this garbage and runs*


	10. Chapter 10

Her mother’s word was good, as Anise knew it would be. The intrusive questioning slowly decreased, enough that it only took a look from her to silence anyone who dared open their mouth. The only one who seemed impervious to Shiara’s glares was her father. Anise knew it was coming from a place of compassion, which made her feel a thousand times worse. He was just happy for her, it was written all over his face every time she walked in a room he was in. She knew he wanted to meet the man who made her daughter believe in love again, or however he had phrased it. Her guilt ate away at her until she could no longer take it. In a moment of weakness she made a fool hearted promise to him, that she would formally introduce them at the upcoming festival when she knew Solas would be able to walk. The promise alleviated some of the guilt, but also sealed her fate. They would meet. And this whole charade would become more than just words, it would become real in the eyes of clan. 

But that only a temporary fix to only one of her problems.

The other being Oblivion.

The abomination was pressing in on her dreams. She knew it couldn’t reach her, not with the ward active and Solas by her side in the Fade. But she could still feel it dancing on the edge of her consciousness, pressing against an invisible barrier, wanting in. Needing in. And each night that passed, its efforts doubled, pounding against the confines of her mind. A pattern, a rhythm, insistent and desperate. She began to sense it on a deeper level, understanding its frustration and pain, its ache need to reach through to her. It scared her. It intrigued her. What killed her most were its cries for her. They were immensely distracting, almost to the point she couldn’t focus on Solas as he led her through restored ruins in their full glory. 

Solas himself made it hard enough to pay attention to the history and culture he was submerging her in. He was in his element, the intricacies of his personality came alive as he explained the not only various wonders of Arlathan, but the darker side of the ancient society too.Anise knew  the history she was taught as a child still held enough truth in it to predict what would happen. She still had many questions about his rebellion, the murder of Mythal that sparked his drive for change and the Human invasion… but he seemed to distance her from it. As if the fall was a shameful memory he still had difficulty facing. She understood the gift she was being given, his memories of her past, of her people’s past, and what it meant for him to have someone to relive the good, and acknowledge the corruption. She was drawn to his charisma, his charm, his true passion for the downtrodden, the destitute, the ignored. His true nature revealed itself in his passion. Perhaps Pride was not so sinful afterall. 

But as her heart fell further for this ancient man from another era, her mind was being torn from her own body by another ancient force. She wanted to make all of it stop, reestablish her sense of self-control but she felt helpless. She wanted to understand why the spirit of Oblivion cried so painfully, and why it wanted her. And why her own heart cried for a touch from the spirit of Pride.

Solas had sensed something was wrong during their last dream together, but Anise denied him over and over every time he asked over the course of the night, blaming her discomfort and worry on her parents being in the camp only a few feet away from him. It took her a few excuses before she realized she was shutting him out, the exactly what she didn’t want him to do to her. But how would she even begin to bring up the issue with spirit with him? This desire to understand Oblivion despite the overwhelming terror that was building within her? Or that with every dream they shared together, she fell a little deeper into a well spring of emotions for him she couldn’t begin to understand.

So when her mother stopped by her aravel with proposition of a hunting trip, Anise jumped on the chance to distance herself from her feelings, and the Fade. The realm of dreams was his sanctuary.

Forests were hers. 

Her senses came alive as they synced with the vitality of the trees, each step deeper into the thick woods taking a weight off her chest. The gentle brush of leaves against her arms and legs as she wove through trunks of towering oaks was welcoming. Her mother moved silently beside her, mirroring Anise with her bow drawn an arrow knocked. Their unspoken rule was that neither would speak until the hunt was complete. 

They had been tracking a group of rams, following their markings and signs that they had been present in the area. Upon closing in on their quarry, they fired two shots simultaneously. Each arrow claiming a well earned prize. The animals scattered.

Without missing a beat, Anise and Shiara took off after their prey in separate directions. Anise loped over tree roots and dove beneath branches, her breaths coming easy. Energy sparked beneath her skin, pulsing through her with the thrill of the chase. Though she could no longer see the ram, she could hear it, it’s footfalls gradually getting slower as her arrow drove itself deeper with each movement  it made, leaving splattered pools of blood on the earth for her to follow. 

Eventually she caught up, she could see it darting between the low branches of trees as the trunks began to thin out into a clearing--but then the ram abruptly altered course, instead of continuing straight they swerved just before open space. She heard the dull thud of her ram collapse to earth off in not so far distance, but her attention was drawn in the direction it didn’t go. As she made her way through the trunks, she could make out a small clearing, with a thin creek running through its center and large gray form lay at its edge, she nearly missed the labored rise and fall of its body. Anise froze.

A wolf.

It surely had heard her, it’s not as if she had been trying to keep quiet as she chased after her prey. But the wolf did not so much as stir to pay her any mind. Anise returned her bow to its fitting and unsheathed her hunting blade as she inched closer. She held her breath when she came face to face with the creature and stood still, listening. Fear left her body as sorrow filled her heart.

It was dying. 

The wolf was old and sickly, judging by its slow, labored breathing. Fur as white as the snow that capped the mountains in the Emprise du Lion dusted its muzzle and up around its eyes. It could barely lift its head to glance up at her as knelt before it, reaching out her hand. It whined when she made contact.

“Shh, now,” she shifted, moving its head into her lap, and began to run her fingers through his withered coat, “the pain will fade.”

It blinked its weary, bloodshot eyes up at her. 

Her heart thundered in her chest. 

_ What are you doing? _

“Go to sleep,” she whispered, easing her mana into the wolf with each soft touch she offered, numbing the aches in its old bones. Each breath the wolf took came easier, and at a slower pace. 

“Be at peace,” she said as it took its last breath in her arms. 

* * *

“Where have you been?”

Anise dropped her quarry beside the fire her mother had started, and plopped herself beside Shiara, who was already in the process of skinning her ram. “I had to put down a wolf,” Anise said, pulling her hunting knife out of its holster around her thigh and holding it over the fire to heat it. 

Shiara paused her ministrations, “Were you--”

“I’m fine, I was fine. It was already halfway ‘cross the Veil when I found it.”

“I am surprised you did not take it with you, its fur could have been used to make a blanket.”

“It was old, it deserved to be left in peace.”

Shiara clicked her tongue and return to her gory work, “Shame, it would have made a wonderful courtship gift.”

Anise nearly told her mother off, but her tongue stopped the words from forming. It would be an appropriate gift… more appropriate than her mother would ever know.

“You care a great deal for him.”

“I do.”

The words fell fell from her lips before her brain could censor them. The slight catch of her own breath was so audible she didn’t know who it surprised more--herself or her mother. When she looked up, she was met with a smirk.

“It wasn’t a question. Yet I sense you are uncertain...do you think he does not feel the same way?”

“I… don’t know how he feels.”

“Ask him.”

“I can’t just do that,” Anise said, appalled.

“Why not?”

“It would be--too soon.”

“If he cares, then it won’t ever be ‘too soon’, perhaps he is waiting for you to make the first move.”

After a moment of silence, Anise pulled the knife out of the flames and examined its burning red body, “Maybe I’m the one who is not ready.”

“Now that is something I can help you with.”

She glanced over at her mother who had put aside the meat she carved from the ram and was looking expectantly at her with a twinkle in her eye. Anise lowered her own knife, opting to let her mother gut her ram while they talked.

“How do you go about telling someone they’ve changed your life,” Anise asked quietly, idly turning over the blade and admiring the flames reflecting off the cooling steel, “I feel as if there is no simple way.”

“You start small, through little actions.” Her mother moved to her side and started on the ram, “You show the person you appreciate them. You give them pieces of yourself to cherish in return.”

Anise had given him small pieces, trivial pieces, of herself. What her mother was implying was the piece she was having a difficult time with. If she gave him more, it would a cross a line for her that meant no turning back. 

And by the Gods she wanted to cross it. And that scared her. He was from an entirely different era, had an agenda that would destroy her very way of life. But if she gave it her all, gave him her all… could it show him the world in a different light? To show him her world, raw and unfiltered…. Her heart skipped a beat.

“What if… what if the person you want to give yourself to… isn’t right for you.”

Shiara paused her work once more, and took a moment to consider her daughter’s question.

“That’s a risk you take when you fall in love. The only way to find out is to try. Only you will know if it’s not right, no one else could possibly decide for you. They do not walk your path, they do not feel your emotions or know your thoughts.” Shiara wiped her bloodied hands on a cloth over her leg, and then reached for Anise’s. “I know you are worried to fall again and have it turn out like last time. But this relationship is not like your last. It can’t ever be. You are not the same woman, as you have grown and matured into the wonderful being before me. And this new man,” Shiara smiled, “he is someone entirely new. You do not need my approval, Anise. Your judgement as always been reliable and your heart is pure. Trust yourself, trust your heart.”

Tears she had not realized formed were now sliding down her cheeks. Anise took a quick breath and blew it out audibly. “I am afraid of how I feel.”

Shiara rested her forehead on Anise’s, “You have all the time in the world to figure it out, da’adahlen.”

They cleaned their camp in comfortable silence after that. The furs from the rams were strung up and spelled to dry. The cuts of meat were also wrapped and placed under a ward to preserve and mask the scent from predators and scavengers. As a final precaution, Anise placed safety wards around the edges of their camp to protect them while they slept. Her mother had already fallen asleep beside the embers of their dying fire, bow by her side. 

Anise wandered over the base of the nearest tree, nestling herself against its giant roots. She knew it would be foolish to fall asleep outside the radius of that ancient artifact, but her needs of her body won out over the reservations of her mind. Her eyes grew heavy with sleep and slowly blinked shut.

* * *

 

They could not have been closed for long for suddenly she was jolted awake. No longer was she at camp. She found herself in the middle of the clearing once more, but the treeline was much farther away, their trunks were just shadowy figures bristling in the breeze. She stood uncertainly, the grass swaying at her knees, brushing against her skin that sent an unpleasant shiver down her spine. The air was chilled, and her jacket was missing. She noted with growing dread the protective barrier was no longer present in her mind. She could feel the openness of the fade all around her, whispering. 

_ You will wake yourself up if this goes wrong.  _

It could have been an eternity or only a few moments, time followed no rules in the fade. Part of the grass at the edge of the treeline suddenly malted, turning that all too familiar sickish color, and died. Anise’s senses heightened into alarm. Her body screamed at her to run, every muscle tensing up, setting on edge, ready to spring into action a moment’s notice.But she fought against it and willed herself to stay in place.

The dying grass spread faster, in a direct path to her. She could see the scaly flesh hanging from Oblivion’s bones from a few feet away, through the swaying blades. Its purple eyes burning, staring at her as it began to circle where she stood. 

“ _ Found you _ ,” it crooned achingly. Anise’s skin crawled. “ _ Found you, found you, found you! _ ”

It leaped forward to her feet. Anise fought back defensively, shoving its head away from her face with her right hand knocking it to the side. Pain seared in her palm as she let out an anguished shriek that echoed impossibly in the open valley.. It was if she had place her hand on burning coals in a fire forge. She was running before she could even register her feet moving, grass whipping at her exposed legs as she closed the distance between herself and the treeline. She peered over shoulder as she took her flight, looking back to find Oblivion squirming in on itself and crying in rage, tears streaming from its purple eyes as a handprint was left illuminated on its cheek where they had made contact. 

 

_ Wake up. Wake up. Wake up.  _

 

_ It’s only a matter of time before it chases after you.  _

 

_ Wake up. _

 

Anise gasped, nearly choking on the air her lungs so desperately were screaming for. She scrambled to stand and tripped over tree root that had been jutting out from ground where she had slept, her back hitting the earth hard. Her palm and soft skin beneath her hand was scorched, as if branded by hot metal. Hot tears welled at the corners of her eyes. Never had she felt such pain before in her life. She couldn’t clench her fist, or move her fingers for that matter. They remained locked with the tips partially bent, trembling. She clutched her wrist with her uninjured hand, and scooted herself back against another tree, and leaned against its bark. Cold sweat slid between her shoulder blades making her feel as if she were sick with fever. 

 

_ Is this how Solas felt? _

 

She gagged. She couldn’t even begin to fathom the pain he endured from the marks across his chest. Another thought flitted through her mind.

 

_ Is this how Oblivion feels? _

 

She didn’t know what to do. Oblivion wanted her. She had touched it. Marked it. 

 

_ What did this mean? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need to just post without second guessing myself. I also have to take this stupid pressure off me that all my chapters need to be 4000+ words.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: Loss, remembering past trauma regarding loss

Anise avoided going back to  _ Var’Hamina _ n once she and her mother had returned to camp that morning. 

For multiple reasons. 

After the conversation with her mother in woods about her developing feelings towards Solas, Anise found herself unexpectedly nervous to be around him. As if admitting that she was harboring affection made her suddenly aware of how  _ real _ the intimacy they were “supposedly” sharing was. She didn’t know how she was going to look him in the eye and not have what she was feeling be written all over face.

And more importantly she had needed to figure out way to heal and hide her burned palm. Heavy hunting gloves would only work for so long before someone noticed how out of place they were and grew suspicious. It also chafed her tender, raw skin where Oblivion had made contact. So she stopped at her aravel to delay the inevitable. There, she grew an assortment of medicinal herbs there for her own personal use and study.  They also made her space feel more wild, as if a small piece of the forest was hers and and hers alone to nurture and cherish. 

But despite her private stock she was barely able to concoct a salve to relieve a fraction of the pain. Not to mention the physical marking of Oblivion, which she knew he would be livid about. There was no doubt he must have sensed the disturbance, being so in tune with any distortions within the Fade--or perhaps even saw. She had walked in half  hoping he would have been asleep when she arrived, but no such luck. 

“What have you done?” Solas’ voice cut through the tension in the infirmary like an executioner’s axe when she entered the room.

She refused to meet his gaze, instead busying herself with organizing salves on the medicine shelf that did not need to be organized. Her heart beat stubbornly against her ribs.

“Why are you asking when you know exactly what happened,”  she hedged, focusing on reading the label of tincture she held.

“I have ideas of what happened. The shockwave I felt pulse across the Fade could have been a multitude of things, but seeing as you did not appear at the Temple... my mind has managed to come up with quite a few. I need to hear the truth.”

She whipped her head around to glare over her shoulder. Solas’ brows were drawn down and lips taught, eyes burning with mixed emotions Anise could not quite read, but could feel piercing her chest. She prayed her own did not betray her. She flexed her hand, sending a shock of sharp pain through her fingers. 

“I touched Oblivion.”

Somehow his eyes managed to widen further. “You  _ what _ ?”

“I thought…,” she turned around slowly, setting aside the jar, “I thought if I could confront it… ”

“You foolish woman,” he said, and attempted to push himself out of the bed to stand. He gasped at the effort. 

In a flash Anise was at his side, her reservations about her feelings all but cast aside. He grasped onto her like a lifeline, leaning into her. 

“Who is being foolish now,” she said to him quietly. Her heart escalated from beating to thrashing at being so close to him. She could see the worry lines by the corners of his eyes and that he had a patch of darker freckles on the right side of his temple. His breath hit her neck in a warm wave. Heat rose to her cheeks. 

“I apparently did not think this through.”

“Obviously.” Anise laughed softly as she situated him upright. “But I did not either. I let my own frustrations blind me into acting on Oblivion before I planned it out. Which is so unlike me…” She let herself trail off, contemplating her own behavior, retracting herself from him to think.

“It’s presence is altering you already. How often has it been trying to reach out to you?”

She rubbed her temples, pressing the palms of her hands into her eyes. “It won’t leave me alone. I thought I could handle it. I have to face it eventually.”

“What do you mean, won’t leave you alone.”

Anise swallowed. “It calls to me every night.”

His stare bored into her.

Anise sat beside him on the cot and launched into the confession she had been holding back--and it felt like a weight being lifted off her shoulders that she had not even been aware of had been there in the first place. The truth spilled forth from her, everything about Oblivion and its increasing attempts to contact her to her own increasing desire to know, to understand despite her fear. 

“Why did you  not tell me sooner it was this pervasive,” he asked when she had finished, his tone much more gentle this time.

She bit her lip. “I felt as if it was my problem, and my problem alone to deal with.” 

Solas sucked in a breath, his eyes softening, “The feeling is one I am all too well acquainted with. But in your case, facing Oblivion is something you cannot do alone.”

“I need to find out what it wants. I need to end this, somehow. Will you help me?”

He hesitated. “I would advise letting me handle it. You have no idea what it is capable of.”

“And you do,” she said flatly, shaking her head.

The question questioned earned her silence.

“You do,” she said slowly, “what else aren’t you telling me about Oblivion?”

He sighed.

“I will not drop this. I need to know,” Anise demanded.

“As I previously told you, Oblivion was once Desire, which was once Purpose. Twisted and vile in its state now, it was not always this way. Purpose is driven, determined, unswaying. Altered purpose is manipulative, dangerous… it operates by its own agenda,” he paused, weighing her reaction. She kept her composure. “It needs you. For what… I am still trying to figure out. But it will only serve to benefit itself. At any cost.”

“You’ve told me all this before. If you won’t tell me the truth, then I intend to find out why on my own.”

“Anise that is inadvisable.”

“I don’t care. I need this to end. And I will end it, at any cost, regardless if you help me or not.”

She made to stand but his fingers slipped around her forearm, firm yet tender, pulling her back down to him. 

“I never said I would not help,” Solas said, letting his hand trail the length of her arm, “I just want to be sure I know its end goal before I tell you.” He glanced down for a split second and hesitated, noticing the bandage wrapped around her hand. He took a shaky breath, or at least that what she thought it sounded like, before making the decision to pull it into his lap and cradle it with his own. 

“The idea of you confronting it alone….” he said softly, picking his words carefully, “if something were to go wrong, if it’s goal is to possess you, and it were to succeed...I...” He furrowed his brows and dropped his gaze, "that would a loss I could not bear."

Her poor heart was staging a rebellion against the bones it beat so violently against. The impulse to entwine her fingers with his was almost irresistible but she held onto patience, though it hurt her.

“This is where Oblivion marked you,” he spoke up, breaking the stillness that had befallen them.

He glanced up when she did not respond. She nodded, not trusting her voice not to crack.

“May I,” he asked, gesturing to peel away the cloth.

“Yes,” she managed to whisper.

He carefully unwound the bandage she had bound in a rush hours earlier, fighting off the urge to grimace when it chaffed her damaged skin. A groan escaped anyway, and his grip softened. He began to rub his thumb in small circles on the uncovered, and uninjured part of her hand. 

When the cloth was stripped away, the burn in all its ugly glory was revealed and Solas took pause to study it. Anise noticed some of the swelling had gone down, but it was still just as red and blistered as it was when she awoke with it. 

“Anise…” he finally said, and she met his eyes. They spoke a thousand words she couldn’t understand.

“It’s not that bad. It appears to only be surface level. No substantial deep tissue damage, unlike yours. The marks you received were much worse and--,” she tried to retract from his touch but he held on and brought her closer.

“Though my marks may have appeared deeper, or worse as you said, this,,” he held her hand up, “this burn is Fade touched. Oblivion’s cursed magic is seeping into your sink. There will be deeper damage if we let it to keep eating away at you, burning away layer after layer…”

_ So that explains why the pain never eased… _

“Why weren’t yours Fade touched, if you also came in contact with Oblivion?”

“Intentions,” he said, as if the answer was that simplistic.

When he noticed she did not get it, he rephrased, “What Oblivion intended to do with me was different that what it intended to with you. But I believe I can undo this spell.”

He closed his eyes and suddenly the room was lit in a beautiful kaleidoscope of shimmering blue refractions. The source emanated from his fist. Settling his hand over her wound, he cast a soft pulse of his own mana. The sensation was unlike anything she had ever felt before. Cool tendrils of magic crept through her, starting at the burn. Her flesh began to sew itself back together, light encircling the wound until it was sealed shut, and it went out. The lights dancing on the walls of the infirmary died with it. But she could still feel his magic continued its way up her wrist, reaching through her forearm, searching, healing, pulling at powers she could not see, but could feel writhing underneath her skin. He slipped his hand beneath her fingers and drew them to his mouth. He brushed a kiss across her knuckles, and the magic vanished. The spell was complete, but they were still suspended in the moment. And with that simple gesture, she realized, he was holding more than just her hand.

She could no longer bear the distance. She pulled her hand out of his and cupped his face, running her thumb over his jawline as she leaned in. His eyes went dark just before he shut them as he lifted his chin to meet her. But before she could brush her lips against his mouth, someone cleared their throat. The magic that had enveloped them vanished entirely, like a rope snapping from the strain of being pulled too tight.

She never moved so fast in her life, or she would swear so later, to create space between herself and Solas. In the back of her mind, she hoped she hadn’t accidentally bumped him. Her face ran flush with heat that rivaled the burn she sustained from Oblivion. She could feel it spreading from her cheeks all the way to the tips of her ears, of which she was compulsively tucking flyaway strands of her hair. 

“I don’t meant to interrupt…” Tah’riel started to say, obviously thoroughly mortified at what he had walked in on but carried on anyway, “but the Halla Keeper really needs you Anise. He’s about to have a meltdown or scream… he’s in really bad shape… uh, I’ll wait for you outside.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder and stumbled backwards, bumping into the wall on his way out.

In his wake, Tah’riel left silence. Awkward and deafening. She didn’t dare look at Solas, for fear of what she might see written on his face. 

“I should go,” Anise said, pushing herself off his cot staring at her foot wraps, mind spinning. Heat trickled down the back of her neck as she walked away from him without looking back, screaming at herself internally. Her face, she was sure, was as red as the setting sun. And it was a vulnerable sight she did not want him to see.

_ What have you done? _

Once outside, she took a deep breath and let the cool evening air purify her thoughts, and wash over her all to warm face.

“How is it that I always seem to walk in on you at all the worst times,” Tah’riel said.

“Don’t even start, Tah’ri,” Anise rubbed at her cooling cheeks, “just fill me in on what the halla keeper needs as we walk.”

“Alrighty then.” Tah’riel seemed grateful for the subject change.

Anise stepped in tandem with Tah’riel towards the Halla pasture as he explained the situation. One of the young ones had fallen ill, the halla keeper had noticed a few days ago but thought nothing of it at the time. They were most susceptible the month after their birth for illnesses. Healers were not summoned for every sick halla. Most could recover on their own, and it strengthened their immune system. If Anise was being summoned, it meant something a little more serious was at hand. 

It unsettled her.

Once they arrived at the halla pen the halla keeper rushed over, hands wringing. Worry lines became evident on his face through the downturn of his brows and rapid pace of his speech. He informed Anise the young halla had been under the weather the last few days, sleeping and resting more than she should have. On the third night she began vomit periodically, and now this morning, day four of her illness, was refusing food and water. 

The unsettling feeling amplified in her gut, making her hands grow clammy.

Anise was allowed into the pen, and  found the sick halla quite easily, as the other halla in the pasture avoided her. It lay on the green grass looking dreadfully exhausted. It whined when she knelt beside it and stroked its white fur. She pooled mana into her freshly healed palm, and a shiver ran down her spine. She blocked the rush of emotions that threatened to overtake her at the sensation. She sent small pulse through the animal, similar to how Solas had reached into her. Her heart skipped a beat. There were too many conflicting emotions boiling up that were clouding her mind.

Anise shook her head, and focused on the baby before her, and heartache all but overtook her.

_ What is wrong with you? _

The halla was fevered. Her palm continued to glow as she ran it down the length of the halla’s side, and rolled the creature onto its back so she could examine her belly. 

Anise’s breath was sharp when her magic identified the source of the sickness. The halla had been tainted, its blood was corrupted with toxins that had slowly invaded her organs, causing them to enter the first stages of failure.  It would be fatal. She stayed a few minutes longer, nursing the halla with healing spells to ease its discomfort. She stood slowly and turned to face the halla keeper. The halla keeper deciphered the look on her face and collapsed beside Tah’riel. 

“She has been tainted,” Anise explained softly to the halla keeper when she reached him, “She must have eaten something that had come in contact with darkspawn--impossible as it may seem. You should go through the halla feed and ensure that the rest of your supply is not contaminated.” Anise shifted her weight, she would have to bring this up with Deshanna. “I predict she has a few days left before it consumes her.  I’ve made her comfortable for the time being. She might pick at some food and water but I don’t expect her to keep much down. I would make the last moments count, and ready yourself for what you must do.”

“But… she is just a baby… how can she be dying? They aren’t supposed to die.”

_ They aren’t supposed to die. _

Her stomach twisted in upon itself sharply, something it hadn’t done for many years.

“I understand Doshiel, losing our young ones,” her voice cracked, taking her by surprise. She tried to swallow, but a lump was stuck in her throat. “It is something we are never prepared for.”

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to do it,” Doshiel sobbed. 

“I’ll take it from here Anise, thank you,” Tah’riel said, giving her a concerned look.

She deflected with a smile and bid them goodbye. As she looked back, she watched Tah’riel pull Doshiel into a consoling hug.

The walk back to the infirmary was a solemn one. Anise observed the children running between arravels, their laughter echoing off the polished wood. Each giggle a small jab at her heart. She slowed to watch them. Their little legs carrying the across the gaps as fast as they could manage. One child fell face first into the mud and immediately pushed himself back up, still managing to laugh with a mouthful of dirt, and chased on. 

The twisting ache returned to her stomach as her eyes stung with fresh tears. 

They were so young, so innocent. At a moment's notice sickness could take any of them, just like the halla... and their time would be cut cruelly short. Or the Veil could collapse and it would be a moot point either way. But this didn’t phase them at all. They kept smiling, kept running, kept getting back on their feet. Another round of giggles rang out as another child attempted to tackle hug his brother… and missed.

_ Would your baby’s laugh have sounded like that? _

“It’s not fair,” she said aloud to no one in particular, “it’s not---” She covered her mouth before the sob could escape.

She let herself ride the wave of sadness, let herself experience it so that it would not build up again like it did.  She sat down in the grass and let all the thoughts pass, not holding on too long to any of them. 

Perhaps it had been confessing her secret to her mother that brought the loss to the surface. 

Or perhaps it was because the last time she had thought she had been in love, everything was ripped away from her before it had a chance to begin. And now, finding herself in another new beginning...it wasn’t just that she was afraid of being knocked down again, she was afraid that this time she wouldn’t be able to stand back up. 

Her thoughts went back to Solas, who had almost been able stand up despite his pain… . She thought of the child who fell hard onto the ground, and still managed to pick himself back up. 

_ People fall. It doesn’t matter whether you are a child, a spirit, or even a god, you have to learn how to get back up. _

When she realized what she had to do, she opened her eyes. 

And stood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if I made it clear or not so I'm just going to drop an ol A/N:
> 
> Falling in love has brought up fear of loss for Anise, she lost everything once before:
> 
> her bondmate (her chance at love even thought she didn't really love Viralas)  
> her pregnancy (the chance to be a mother)
> 
> and these past fears are getting ignited as she faces new versions of her fear: 
> 
> fear of losing her freedom (becoming Keeper)  
> fear of losing sense of self (to Oblivion)  
> fear of losing the love she already has (her friends and family by loving Fen'Harel)
> 
> and the most obvious probably:
> 
> the fear of losing her heart (to Solas if he were to leave her--as she kind of already knows will happen because he obviously cannot stay with her in the Clan)
> 
>  
> 
> I hope that all makes sense.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recommended song to read along with: ["What are You Asking Me?" by James Newton Howard (The Village Original Soundtrack)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BZk5FIdWVIs)

Her stride was full of purpose, her mind set and determined to keep the swirling tendrils of dread at bay as she approached him. She gripped the metal frame of his cot for balance, an anchoring point so as not be swept away should her fear escape its hold. Ancient eyes met her own, and she did not let what she found in them deter her. His own fear, a hidden depth of sorrow and forlornness that seemed to echo in the recesses of his steeled gaze. She would not succumb.

“We both are keeping secrets and they are getting in the way of the conversation we need to have about collapsing the Veil versus sealing it,” she stated, not letting herself break eye contact, “I need to earn your trust if we want to make a difference in this world. Before you can counter,” she broke her hold on the frame to raise her hand in a silencing gesture, and Solas shut his mouth, “I know you don’t trust me. You still have not told me who put those arrows in your side when I found you in the woods. You still have not showed me your role in the downfall of the Elvhen Empire--the aftermath yes, but not the act of how it came to be ruined. Or the other Evanuris what you did to them.” 

His skin lost what little color it had left. 

“I can feel the weight of your secrets behind your eyes, I can see how you carry them within the way you carry yourself... I understand how heavy that weight feels, as I am carrying many of my own.” The cold metal bit into her palms as she clenched it. “And the truth is… I am afraid. I am afraid of the secrets I keep. I am afraid.” She let out the rest of her nervous energy with the last of the air in her lungs as she exhaled, “I am afraid because I want to trust you, want to share my secrets with you and believe that you will not them against me.” 

She released the frame and clasped her hands tightly in front of her, fidgeting. He kept silent.

“The secrets I keep are the reason why I have let no visitors in to see you, the reason I have taught you to walk, the reason I have not brought you out of the infirmary yet, the reason I did not tell you about Oblivion sooner.” She shifted her arms across her chest, tucking her fingers against her ribs. “They are they the reason for my lapses in judgement… and personal space.”

_ I should have never tried to kiss you _ , she wanted to say but the words stuck in her throat. Because she did want to, and not under the pretense of courting. 

“So, the first I will share is that… I care about you, and not just because you are my patient here, or because of the cover story.” She swallowed. “The glimpses I have gotten to see… I…,” she exhaled, “I am fond of. You aren’t who I thought you were. You are… so much more. And I find myself… getting distracted. I haven’t wanted to share parts of myself, the deeper parts of myself with someone in such a long time. I want to. I want to trust you with those parts of me. But your plans… what you hope to do...will break me. Unless you are willing to work with me.”

Her implication must have sunk in, because after a contemplative silence he said, “You are right, about me withholding certain truths from you. I have had my trust shattered too many times that I have lost my ability to put faith in others but… ” He glanced down at his lap, and her gaze followed. His hands were clasped so hard his knuckles were white. “But… I am trying. With you.” 

That small admission was all she needed to hear. His words lifted a weight off her shoulders, no longer anchored, she slipped around and seated herself beside him, covering his hands with one of her own. His skin was cold. “I want to trust you, too,’ he said quietly, relaxing his fingers beneath her palm, “It is just… what you are suggesting… I do not know if it will be possible, I want to believe it can be. But I fear what will happen to the trust we will have cultivated if we were to look into another way and... it fails.”

“You don’t want to be betrayed again.”

“And neither do you,” he said, capturing her eyes once more, “I can see the sorrow in your eyes as easily as you see mine. You have forgotten how to trust despite how badly you want to as well. So how do we move forward from here?”

Anise contemplated his words. “You told me in fade, you wanted to be proven wrong, or would embrace the chance at least. Give me that chance, an honest chance.”

“What are you asking me?”

“I am asking that once you have recovered that you won’t run away. That you will first search for another option to  _ save both worlds _ . And that you won’t walk this path alone.”

“I don’t know if I will be able to keep that promise, but while I am here with you… it… wouldn’t hurt to try,” he whispered, as if terrified of his own confession, “I don’t even know where to begin.”

“ _ We _ begin by learning how to trust again. Starting with each other.”

He swallowed thickly, and twined his fingers in with hers. “Then I believe I should be the one to start. You deserve my theory about your link to Oblivion. Although...”

“Although...?”

“What if Oblivion’s obsession goes beyond you simply bearing Ghilan’nain’s vallaslin and your sense of Purpose?”

“Beyond how?”

Solas appeared uncomfortable, more than he usually did. “I believe there is a chance you might be related… to her.”

There was suddenly a lot of pressure building in her head. “You think I’m… _ what _ ?”

“There might be a chance you are a descendant of Ghilan’nain. It is the only explanation I can think of that would explain Oblivion’s level of attachment to you.”

She recoiled from him. “Excuse me?”

His hands now empty of hers, curled in on themselves. “Oblivion is bound to her magic, as I told you before. It was able to find her anywhere in Arlathan, anywhere in the Fade. It could come to her side when she called it, no matter where it might have been. The fact that it could have gone looking for another individual with a strong sense of purpose to possess when it failed with you, and  _ hasn’t yet  _ is alarming. Also, that it was able to track you down specifically after its release--”

“Release? Someone released it?” Her voice pitched higher, and the blood drained from her face. In quiet voice she asked, “Was it you?”

“No, no, it was not me,” he said placatingly, extending a hand as if to reach out to her again but thought better of it and returned it into his lap, “Remember a few days after I first awoke after you brought me here I told you I was tracking a disturbance that had thrown my plans off course?” 

She nodded.

“Oblivion’s release was a side effect of that disturbance.”

“My first thought was… that somehow…,” he ran a  hand over his head, “somehow Ghilan’nain might have escaped her own imprisonment due to the weakening of the Veil, and had unleashed it.”

“Remind me to ask you about the imprisonment of the Gods,” she  interjected, and he gave her an exasperated look, “After this. So if Ghilan’nain got out… what would that mean?”

“Do I really need to explain the ramifications of an angry self-entitled ‘all powerful’ self-proclaimed ‘God’ like mage with the power to create abominations at her will to you?”

“Good point. So you were investigating and…?” she asked, getting him back on track.

“I discovered that the Inquisition had infiltrated one of Ghilan’nain’s Temples. I can only assume that the Inquisition has taken an interest in exploiting secrets buried in Elvhen Temples as a means to find a way to stop me. But in doing so disrupted the ancient wards guarding the Temples and released it by accident.”

“What were they thinking?! Poking around with magic they know nothing about!”

“It was the Inquisitor’s idea,” Solas tone took a sour note, “It was Ghilas’an who shot me. My fault I suppose as I foolishly gave myself away by yelling at him for being so naive.” Anise made a small noise of surprise which she covered with a cough. The mention of Ghilas’an sent a wave of smothering guilt over her. “I managed to escape through an Eluvian into those woods and just so happened to stumble into your wards.” 

“I should have guessed the Inquisitor was the one you were running from, it’s the obvious answer.”

“I face opposition not only from the Inquisitor, Anise,” he said quietly. 

She raised a brow at him.

“...If you are indeed a descent of Ghilan’nain, it would explain how Oblivion was able to find you, or mistake you for Ghilan’nain, as you carry her bloodline. Which is what I am hoping, because the alternative that she is commanding Oblivion…”

He trailed off, letting the implication sink in.

“Which would mean there is another God awake in Thedas,” she finished for him, with a sickening chill creeping into her spine. 

“One who would absolutely wreak havoc on this world in her quest for revenge.”

Her patron Goddess. The one whose mark she bore on her skin. The one who the more she learned about, the more she grew to hate. She wrapped her arms around herself subconsciously. They fell into silence, lost to their own thoughts. This was becoming much more complicated than she originally thought. Fen’Harel had many enemies, which would become hers if she continued to help him. Including her own brother. It made finding a solution to sealing the Veil even more important. 

_ If what he is saying is true, it also means Ghilas’an and Eltheran are descendents of Ghilan’nain too... _

Anise became increasingly aware she was running out of time to tell him the truth of her relation to Ghilas’an. If he were to find out without it coming from her, it would betray every ounce of trust they had managed to build. 

_ But how do you tell him? _

“Solas…,” she started, the words she wanted to say, needed to say, refused to to form, and instead settled on asking him a question. She would save that confession for when they had more of a foundation built between them. “How do we test your theory? Can’t we just, ask Oblivion?” 

“Well, yes, if Oblivion were willing, truthful, and sane enough. But given its track record at the moment,” he gave her a pointed look, “it would be risky.”

“And the other option?”

“You would have to enter one of her Temples and complete the rituals to be granted access to a antechamber. The magic within it should react to your presence, and if you are truly blood of her kin, you will be allowed in.”

“And just where are these temples?”

“Scattered throughout Thedas,” he said evasively.

“Not good enough.”

He sighed. “If I tell you I have a feeling you will disappear in the night to do something entirely foolish.”

“I think we need to know if Ghilan’nain is awake and a threat, and the only way we’re going to be able to know that is by figuring out the mystery of Oblivion, which starts with finding out why it’s bent on haunting me. If we can’t ask it, then we’ll have to find one of Ghilan’nain’s Temples and figure it out the hard way. And after that is settled, we’ll finally be able to actually make progress on searching for alternatives to bringing down the Veil. But none of this will be possible unless we focus on our most important priority” Anise said, pushing herself off the cot. 

“Which is?” He held her gaze and its intensity set her heart fluttering. 

“Getting you back on your feet and able to walk again,” she said, and held out a hand to him.


End file.
